A Tale of Two Slaves Part 1: Surrender
by empressmargaretta
Summary: After an attack on their homeland, Crown Prince Nash and his sisters, Princesses Marin and Iris, are forced to flee for their lives. In a moment of desperation, the two are separated, each to endure different fates. Nash becomes the war trophy of the enemy's emperor, while Marin and Iris find themselves on the auction block in the foreign land of Arclight.
1. I Will Never Leave Your Side

The palace halls were eerily silent as eight-year old prince Nash ran through them. There should have been guards everywhere, asking him what he was doing at this, the sixth hour of the night. But there was no one in sight. Nash's footsteps echoed uncomfortably loud on the stone floor of the palace. He wondered briefly if the soldier who had woken him was alright.

" _Prince Nash!"_ _The young royal rolled over sleepily and sat up._

" _Huh? What's wrong, Primus?"_

" _The palace is under attack! You must go, young prince, find your sisters, and get out of here!"_

 _Nash stared at the guard through eyes heavy with sleep. It wasn't possible, what he was being told. "The palace is under attack?" he repeated dumbly._

" _Yes! Listen carefully. Dress yourself in dark, lose clothing- clothing you can carry things in. Retrieve your sisters and tell them the same. Fill your clothes with food and money and run to Drachelm. Seek out our friend Stalminus; he will take care of you. Now, please your majesty, go!"_

Nash had not wasted any more time. Quickly he had dressed himself in layers of lose clothing and covered himself with a dark cloak. Making sure he was still wearing his shark-tooth locket and silver ring that marked him as a twin, he went to his sisters' room.

Princesses Marin and Iris shared a large bedroom closer across the palace from the crown prince's room. Marin was a light sleeper and sat straight up in bed as soon as her brother entered the room.

"Hoping to play a joke on us while we sleep, dear brother?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"No jokes this time, Marin," Nash said grimly, shaking four-year old Iris awake. "The palace is under attack."

"An attack in the middle of the night. How rude!"

"I'm serious, Marin! Get your darkest and loosest clothes on and hurry up!" The lines in her brother's face were enough to convince Marin that he was serious.

"Where are Mother and Father?" She asked, hastily slipping into a dark dress.

"I don't know." Nash was busy trying to get Iris dressed.

"Are we playing a game, big brother?" Iris asked, smiling up at him.

"Yes, Iris," Nash told her. "To win you have to be very quiet and very fast."

"Like a rabbit," Iris whispered.

"That's right," her brother said, forcing a smile. "Like a rabbit." He began to lace up Iris's sturdy walking shoes.

"Now can we go get Mom and Dad?" Marin asked.

"No! We have to go out through the secret passage." Nash went over to the far left corner of the room and felt along the wall. Finding the secret panel that opened the tunnel, Nash pushed with all his strength. With a strange, creaking sound, the stones slid away to reveal a gaping and black tunnel.

"Come _on_ ," Nash hissed, realizing his sisters weren't following him.

"But… it's so dark. Can't we take a torch?"

"No time! Besides, light will give away our location!"

Marin was about to continue protesting when there was a sudden crash from outside, followed by many footsteps and men's voices speaking in a strange language. For the first time, the danger they were in became clear to all three children. Hastily, Marin grabbed Iris's hand and dragged her over to the tunnel. After pushing her in, despite the girl's whining about it being dark and smelling bad, Marin scrambled in after her. Nash came last, pushing the secret panel on the opposite side of the concealed entrance. The stones crawled back into place leaving the three siblings in total darkness.

Seconds later, Astranian soldiers burst through the door and looked around. "Find those two royal brats!" The leader of the group ordered. "Our victory will be short-lived if the crown prince escapes! He's a smart little whelp. He'll come back with help."

"Yes sir, Lord Heartland."

Feeling their way along the dark stone passage, the royal children made slow progress in the tunnel. It had originally been constructed as a way to escape in case of an attack, but Nash and Marin had never actually thought they'd have to use it this way. For the most part, they had used it as a way to escape the servants that were supposed to be looking after them. It had been a great source of frustration to all the men and women assigned to keep an eye on the royal twins.

The tunnel came out in the royal kitchen, which was abandoned. No one was even in the sleeping quarters.

"Where is everyone?" Marin asked, clutching Iris's hand.

"Running for their lives, just bas we should be," Nash said. "Fill your clothes with as much bread as you can. Bread keeps longer than fruit or cheese, so not as much of that. And no meat- it will attract animals." The crown prince hurriedly began filling three water sacks- made from the hides of goats- with water.

"Where will we go?" Marin asked.

"To Drachelm. To seek out Stalminus."

"Dumon's father?"

"Yes. He'll help us."

Marin brightened. "We'll get to see Dumon, then."

"But we have to _get_ there first," Nash pointed out, beginning to fill is own pockets with bread. Then he handed out the water skins, which were all slung over shoulders, and then, with Nash holding Iris's left hand and Marin holding her right, the three royals sprinted out into the night.

At night, the gardens of the palace were a maze of strange shapes reaching out to grab the fleeing prince and princesses. Several times, one of them tripped and fell to their knees, but no one ever cried out. Fear of being discovered kept their lips sealed.

They had just made it out of the gardens and were coming around to the front of the castle when Nash suddenly turned around and jerked his sisters back into the shrubbery.

"Nash, what-" Marin hushed when she saw the hordes of enemy soldiers flooding in and out of her home. "Oh no! How are we going to get to the beach?"

"We'll just have to wait until there's less of them," Nash whispered, pulling Iris close in a tight hug.

They stayed crouched in the bushes for what felt like an eternity. Marin's legs began to cramp, but she didn't dare move for fear of being heard rustling about. _Finally_ , the soldiers began to thin out, and Nash decided it was time to move.

They made it outside the palace walls through a small garden gate and then made a mad dash for the small docks used privately by the royal family and their guests when they wished to travel out on the ocean for their enjoyment. No one had bothered to guard it.

As they ran across the sand, the three royals could see the huge looming shapes of enemy ships, coming out of their hiding places and sailing directly towards Nash, Marin, and Iris's home country.

Reaching the small rowboat that was always kept tied up at the royal dock for emergencies, Marin and Iris stumbled into it, panting heavily. Marin turned around and reached for her brother, only to find him staring back the way they had come- at a line of torches moving across the sand towards them.

"How could they have known about our private dock?" Nash murmured.

"It doesn't matter," Marin said desperately. "Please, Nash, just get in the boat!"

Her brother turned towards her slowly. "I can't" he said.

"What do you mean, you can't? Come on, please-"

"I'm sorry, Marin," Nash said, pulling of his cloak, filled with food, and his water skin. "But I'm the crown prince. They'll chase after me, which will give you time to get away." Nash pressed his share of the provisions into his sister's hands.

"Nash, no," Marin said. "You don't have to do this. We can still make it together- besides, I can't row the boat by myself!"

"You don't have to row," Nash said firmly. "The current will take you towards Drachelm. Just drift."

"But-"

"Marin! This is the only way," the crown prince said, and for the first time, Marin saw the pain in his eyes. "Give me your hand," he instructed. Trembling, Marin did as he told her. "See these rings?" Nash asked, holding up his own hand. Twin silver bands, one around each of the twins' ring finders, twinkled in the moonlight.

Marin nodded, sniffing. She would _not_ cry.

"That ring that you wear, and this one that I wear, are signs that we are twins- born as two vessels of the same soul. Remember, sister, no matter what happens, I will never leave your side."

For a long moment, the two siblings stared into each other's eyes. Then Nash turned and dove into the water, swimming away from his sisters and making enough noise to call his pursuers after him. Marin curled up in the bottom of the rowboat, trying to comfort Iris, who was weeping silently.

It would be the last time the girls saw their brother for six cycles of the sun.


	2. Traitor!

It was morning before they caught him.

Lord Heartland was right- Nash was smart for an eight-year old. When he was sure that he had the full attention of his pursuers, he took in a deep breath and went down deep.

Having lived by the ocean his entire life, Nash had learned how to swim when he was very young- only five. He was well acquainted with currents, deep diving, and how long he could hold his breath- which was hopefully long enough for the enemy to lose him among the dark waves.

When he could withhold oxygen from his lungs no longer, he surfaced as quietly as he could. He could see the torches in the distance, milling about, as if uncertain what to do. Good. Their confusion would give him time to make his way to the rocks on the opposite side of the beach. Nash took another deep breath and went back under.

Of course, the current flowed south, towards Drachelm, and Nash was heading in the opposite direction- the north part of the island. This meant he had to swim against the current. Nash tried to stay as deep as he could. Staying near the surface would make him just a cork in the waves, unable to really determine where he was going. Luckily, however, Nash's father had taught him well, and soon he was able to crawl up on the north end of the beech and hide among the large boulders there.

Having swum against the current, the young prince was exhausted and breathing heavily. He decided to rest by the rocks until he was ready to keep going. To Nash's horror, he soon heard footsteps nearby. Had they anticipated his actions? How? Nash thought back to how quickly the enemy had gotten down to the royal dock- a dock they shouldn't have even known about. Something was wrong here.

"Well? Don't just stand there fools, find him!"

Nash froze. He knew that voice. That was the voice of Lord Heartland, a diplomat sent by the Heartlanders to make peace with the Barians.

Heartland and Baria were the two great empires of the south Pacific. They had been at war with each other for years. Baria was made up of six regions- the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean, Drachelm, Astrania, Widehan-yosae, Sparta, and the Tachyon Mountains.

Nash's kingdom, the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean, was made up of five islands, all connected by bridges. These islands were on the very eastern side of the Barian Empire. North of them was Astrania, a large island, and south of them was Drachelm, which was slightly smaller. On the main continent were Widehan-yosae, to the north, Sparta to the south, and west of both of these were the Tachyon Mountains.

One elected official from each kingdom would be chosen to represent their people in the Imperial Council, who met at the end of each lunar cycle. Of the seven, one was elected as the leader. The current leader of the Seven Barian Emperors was Nash's father, Emperor Ralphenom. There were seven because the United Lands were allowed to elect two representatives. Although they were united, the islands did differ on some issues. Nash's mother, Empress Toria, came from a different island than his father, and had been elected as the United Lands second member of the Imperial Council. Dumon's father, Stalminus, was the representative of Drachelm.

This was totally unlike the barbaric Heartlanders, who had no such council, and therefore sometimes declared war on each other. Heartland was made up of three major kingdoms- Tenjo, Arclight, and Tsukamo. Nash didn't know much about them except that there were constant tensions between Arclight and Tenjo, and that Tsukamo was often the peacemaker. Also in the Heartland Empire was Animalia, an island to the north of the continent that the three main kingdoms shared. Animalia had once belonged to Tenjo, which had raided it for resources and slaves. But after a bloody conflict, it had finally won its independence. Finally, there were the southern isles, which were despised by the rest of Heartland and pretty much left to do whatever pleased them.

During the reign of Nash's great-grandfather, the Barians had often raided Heartland for slaves and gold- which the barbarians collected and kept in their palaces, for some reason. Barians knew better what to do with precious metals- turn them into great works of art, make use of their beauty, not just keep them horded in some locked room. Nash's father, however, had proposed the radical idea of making peace with Heartland. Slave raids had slowed down, and Nash and Marin had been given basic training in the Heartlandish language.

So, when Lord Heartland, who was named so because he was an orphan, and all orphans of Heartland were given that name, to make them feel as though they belonged, had arrived at the palace, saying that the Heartland kingdoms wanted to make a treaty, Emperor Ralphenom had been very pleased.

Only now Nash knew why Lord Heartland had wanted to come and visit his kingdom. He had been spying the place out! Heartland, whom Nash had never really liked and had the feeling that had never liked him, knew all about the private dock, and what Nash might think like in order to escape his trackers. Heartland was a traitor!

He had to think fast. He had to get away from these rocks, quickly and quietly, before the searchers got too close. Dropping to all fours, Nash began to crawl like a spider among the boulders. Step, slide, hide, step, slide, hide… Something was bothering him. What was it? Oh, bother, he didn't have time to think about it right now.

Nash reached the end of the beach and slipped back into the capitol. Now he had a problem. To make it to the north woods, he would have to stay along the back wall of the capitol city until he reached the northern gate. And the capital city was filled with enemy soldiers. He would just have to stick to the shadows, he decided.

Luckily, Nash reached the northern gate without too much hassle, other than a mangy cat the screeched when he startled it, forcing him to hide in a barrel until the soldiers who came to investigate it left.

"Now I understand why Marin hates cats," the crown prince muttered to himself. After getting out of the city, he ran along the path that led to the forest as fast as he could. As soon as the invaders had the capitol, they would spread out to gain control of the rest of the island. Nash would have to keep one step ahead of them.

He would travel west through the woods, since they covered the entire north end of the island, turn and go south through the fields that were in back of the capitol city, and then turn east and make his way along the coast of the Pegasus Channel until he found a way across.

Upon reaching the woods, Nash decided the best thing to do would be to find a sturdy tree and wait until he was rested enough to get on with the next step- which would be to outfit himself for the journey. The woods had edible berries in it, and he could always catch small animals and roast them. He would also be careful to leave a false trial for his pursuers to find, to confuse them for a few more days. These were other skills that Nash had grown up being taught.

However, the prince's young body had already been through a great deal, and he had been woken from a deep sleep only one turn of the moon ago, and so it was no surprise that, sitting on a sturdy tree branch, Prince Nash fell asleep.

He awoke to the sun in his face and the voices of soldiers very close- too close. Nash panicked. He had slept too long! They were almost on top of him!

Nash was about to swing down from the tree and run for it, when he realized that the voices he was hearing were not foreign. They were Astranian. Relief flowed through him. Their allies to the north had arrived, overwhelmed the enemy, and were now looking for him! Nash's joy was short-lived, however, as he once again heard the familiar voice of Lord Heartland.

"Well? Anything yet?"

"No, my Lord."

 _No! How could this be? The Astranians are with Heartland? Or is Heartland with the Astranians?_

It didn't matter. He had to get out of there. Quickly, he scrambled down from the tree, ignoring the protests from his aching and stiff body, and took off.

He stumbled and almost fell once or twice, but soon his blood was pumping and his body was warming up.

"Look! There!"

 _Blast it!_ Nash thought. They had spotted him. Adrenaline kicked in as he tried to lose them, zig-zagging back and forth. After all, the shortest distance between any two things is a straight line.

Nash had made it into a clearing between the trees before he looked down at his clothes. _Oh, no!_ He was wearing a dark blue tunic. In the dark, it served to keep him well hidden, but in the woods, illuminated by streams of sunlight, it stuck out vividly.

Glancing up, Nash saw a large boulder blocking his path- a rock at least three times his size. He thought quickly. His pursuers would think he would swerve away from this rock. If he could make it over the obstacle before they caught up, he might still have a chance.

Grasping a ridge in the rocks surface and sticking his foot into another to get a foothold, Nash began to climb. He was about half way there when he heard the soldiers come flooding into the clearing. _I was too slow!_ He thought. Gritting his teeth, Nash reached out for the next hold. He couldn't give up now.

Unfortunately, in his haste, Nash didn't get a strong grip, and to his horror, he found himself falling backwards. The last thing he thought before hitting the ground was: _I'm sorry, Marin and Iris._

Nash pursuers stood over him as he lay crumpled on the ground, his breath knocked out of him. The crown prince could now see that they were Astranian soldiers. Lord Heartland came and knelt next to him.

"Well, _your highness_ ," Heartland sneered. "It looks like this is the end of the line for you. I doubt Emperor Domitian will let you live long after all the trouble you've caused him."

Nash closed his eyes. It was as he had feared. Emperor Domitian was the ruler of Astrania. _He had betrayed them all!_

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **What happened to Marin and Iris the morning their brother was caught.**


	3. The Slave Ship Sybil

Nash had been wrong about the direction of the flow of the water. It was true that the Pegasus Channel flowed in a south-west direction, and would have taken Marin and Iris eventually to Drachelm… _if_ they had had been on the Pegasus Channel. But the royal dock was only _near_ the mouth of the channel, not _in_ it. So when the royal sisters had set themselves adrift, they had been carried away by the dominant current- the ocean. And the ocean's current changed as it willed.

After Nash's splashing and the sounds of enemy soldiers milling about had faded, Marin had untied the small boat from the dock and pushed off. Then, confident that they were drifting towards friends, Marin and Iris had curled up together under Nash's cloak and let the rocking of the boat lull them to sleep.

Now, at the time of the sun's fourth shift in the sky, Marin was in despair. There was nothing around her but salty ocean water, and she had no way of knowing in which direction they were headed.

"We can't give up, Iris," Marin said, more to herself than to her sister. "We can't give up! Nash wouldn't give up."

Iris's response was to stick a strand of hair in her mouth. It was what she did when she felt like crying.

With nothing else to do, Marin pulled apart a loaf of bread and gave both herself and the smaller girl a piece. Never giving up would be pointless if they starved to death. Then the Princess sat and thought hard, wracking her brain for a way out of this. Short of paddling the boat with her own arms and using the sun to guide her, she came up with nothing. Iris added another strand of hair.

They had been drifting for two sun cycles when the slave ship _Sybil_ picked them up. Undoubtedly, two girls adrift in the middle of the ocean had raised questions, and the ship had come to investigate. Even as it drew closer and closer, Marin continued to hope that it wasn't coming towards them at all, and if it was, that it would be friendly.

But when the ship pulled up alongside them, casting its gloomy shadow over the two sisters, Marin knew it was hopeless. The name _Sybil_ marked her as a Heartlandish ship; which meant they would soon be in the hands of enemies.

A rope ladder was lowered, and a man and a boy descended into the small row boat. Marin met their gazes defiantly. The foreigners spoke to each other in their strange, flowy language, before the boy gathered up all of their food and supplies into a bundle and scurried up the ladder like a monkey with it.

"Hey!" Marin objected. "Those things belong to us!" The boy paid no attention to her but continued in his ascension.

Once the boy had disappeared, the man reached down and picked up Iris, who instantly opened her mouth, her hair falling out as she shrieked, "Sister! Sister! Save me, sister!"

"Leave her alone!" Marin demanded, swiftly kicking the man in the shin. He said something she did not understand, but she knew from histone and the pained expression on his face that she had succeeded in hurting him. However, he did not let Iris go. Glaring down at Marin, the man said something to her harshly.

"I don't understand you!" Marin yelled at him in Barian. Up until that point, Marin had only conversed with Iris in her native tongue, Salkie, which was spoken in different dialects on all of the islands that were a part of the United Lands. However, Barian was the universal language between all seven regions of the Barian Empire.

The man pointed at the Princess and then at the ladder, before repeating himself. Marin understood. He wanted her to climb. Her pride told her to resist, but reason convinced her to comply. Wrapping Nash's cloak around her like a stole, she gripped the rope ladder and scrambled up. The man followed her with Iris under his arm.

Once on board, he set her down on the deck next to Marin. The four-year old girl clung to her older sister and sobbed. Pulling Iris close to comfort her, Marin scanned her new surroundings.

The ship's crew was unmistakably from the Heartland Empire. They wore far too much clothing to be Barian sailors. The man who had carried Iris up the ladder was conferring with a man dressed in the most absurd clothing the young Princess had ever seen. He was covered from head to toe in frills and ruffles of all assortments.

"These Heartlanders. They are so afraid of showing a little skin that they cover it up with layers and layers of pretty cloth. They may not show much skin, but they seat twice as much as pigs for their efforts." Iris giggled, momentarily forgetting her tears at the idea of a pig waddling around decorated such as the Heartland barbarian was. She quickly stopped, however, when the frilly man turned towards them sharply.

He studied them critically, making some observations. Of course, neither Marin nor Iris understood his words, but this is what he was telling his first mate, the man who had carried Iris onto the ship:

"These girls are undoubtedly westerners. Only Tenjos would have such pale skin, but no Heartlander would have such exotically colored eyes and hair."

This was true. Marin's dark blue hair and pink eyes would never have been worn by an easterner, and although some Tenjos did have blue eyes and some Tsukamos might have had green hair, Iris's coloring also marked her as a Westerner.

 _So,_ Marin thought, _they know we are Barians._ She closed her eyes and switched the gears of her mind to Heartlandish. Similarly to how Barian was the language of the Barian Empire, Heartlandish was spoken by most people in the Heartland Empire. Hopefully, at least one of these people would understand her.

"Arclight, Tenjo, or Tsukamo?" she asked, trying to remove all traces of a Barian accent from her voice. The frilly man, the one who had carried Iris up onto the deck, and the others all turned to her in surprise. Before any of them could any anything, however, a loud and booming voice carried across the deck.

"They're all Arclightian, dearie, 'cept for me. I'm Tsukamonian, born and bred."

Marin turned, startled, to see a large, ruddy-faced man with a black ponytail standing at the entrance to the galley below, where he must have merged from, wiping his hands on a towel.

"I'll take care of these two, Cap'n, sir," the man said, looking the sisters up and down.

The Captain thought this over for a moment. "Very well, Mr. Tillbilly," he said finally. "Take care of these girls and see to it that they stay healthy. They are Barians and will fetch a good price on the auction block. Mr. Callis," he said, switching back to Arclightian and addressing the man who had carried Iris up the ladder, his first mate. "Reset our course for Arclight."

"Yes sir, Captian."

Marin didn't pay any attention to this last bit. She couldn't have understood it anyway, but she had heard with terrible clarity what the Captain had told Mr. Tillbilly, which had been said in Heartlandish. At the words 'auction block,' she'd felt as though she'd been belted in the stomach.

These Heartland barbarians were going to sell them as slaves!

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Nash confronts the traitor to the alliance between the Seven Barian Kingdoms- Emperor Domitian!**


	4. Deal With the Devil

"Get him up," Lord Heartland said, standing. Two of the Astranians came over to where Nash was lying and, with each of them gripping one of his arms, gave him a swift yank upwards. Nash gasped and let out a groan of pain as his empty lungs were jarred violently.

"On your feet, runt!" One of the guards growled in Barian.

Still struggling to regain his breath, the captured prince managed to get to his feet, glaring at his captors. "I can speak your language just as well as you can!" he spat in Astranian. The older of the two soldiers cuffed him hard. Despite the blow, Nash remained defiant.

"Bind him," Heartland ordered. The younger of the two soldiers produced a finely woven cord- strong and durable; the kind of rope that Astrania was known for- and made as if to tie Nash's hands.

The crown prince knew there was no chance of escape with fifteen enemies surrounding him, but he wouldn't have even one of those fifteen bragging that capturing him had been easy. As the young Astranian reached for Nash's hands, the boy suddenly and swiftly knife-handed him in the throat. With a cry, the man fell to his knees. Then, like a swarm of bees, Nash's enemies were upon him, determined to avenge their fallen comrade.

The purplelette fought them head on, kicking, punching, kneeing them in the chest stomach or groin when the opportunities presented themselves, and even pulling hair. At one point, a soldier was foolish enough to grab his wrist. Without second thought, Nash sank his teeth into the man's arm. His enemy howled in pain, but he didn't let go- he clamped down harder.

A stunning blow to the head caused him to release his unfortunate victim and fall to his knees. In a mad rage, his foes descended on him, pulling his hands behind his back and tying them so tightly Nash could feel the cord slicing into his tender wrists. In a similar way, a strip of leather was inserted into his mouth and fastened tightly around the back of his head, cutting into his mouth. All the while, they struck at him, some spitting on him in retribution for all the trouble he had caused.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Lord Heartland said finally. "Let's not keep his majesty waiting any longer." Reluctantly, the soldiers got off Nash, pulled him to his feet, and began pushing him ahead of them as they walked back to the captured capital city.

The young royal was an awful mess, covered in scratches and bruises. His clothing was stained in blood that had dripped down from cuts on his arms and face. In his condition, it was difficult for Nash to stay standing, much less walk at the pace that his captors wanted him to. Nevertheless, he was the crown prince of the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean, and though he was humiliatingly bound and gagged, he held his head high and matched his pace with those beside him.

Nash wasn't the only one with injuries, either. The soldier he had hit in the neck needed help to walk, and the one he had bitten was cradling his arm, clumsily bandaged by one of his comrades, against his chest. Others had visible bruises where Nash had punched or kicked them. As a result, when Nash was paraded through his captured city, his torn-down people knew that he ahd put up a fight. They knew he would not give up easily.

Once out of the general village, Nash's captors took him along to the royal palace, where, to Nash's disgust, the enemy's flag, a hideous white skull on a blood-red background, now waved high.

Nash knew that the Astranians were a warrior-like people, and that before the alliances had been formed between all seven Barian regions, they had lived to fight and conquer. However, everyone had thought that they're thirst for blood was satisfied when they agreed to join the alliance. But, apparently, they had been wrong.

Nash received a horrible numbing shock wave that wracked him to the core when the group got closer to the palace, showing him just how wrong they had all been. Hanging from two, sturdy wooden posts by their feet were the bodies of Emperor Ralphenom and Empress Toria. They were covered in blood, and Nash knew immediately that his parents had been stabbed straight through the heart. He felt sick. His vision blurred a little, and he desperately tried to regain his focus.

All of those efforts were lost, however, when he noticed the piles of dead soldiers a little further on. Among the bodies, Nash recognized Primus, who had brought him the news of the attack during the moon's last cycle. It was the first time in his life Nash had seen a dead person up close, and he noticed with a shudder how the glassy eyes of Primus stared unseeing into oblivion.

Inside the royal palace, Emperor Domitian had already begun to make changes. Instead of blue and gold, the palace halls were draped and carpeted in violet and deep burgundy. Astranian guards stood at every post where a dead United Lands soldier had stood only one sun cycle before. It all felt unreal to Nash, like a horrible nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

In the throne room, Astranian warriors stood all around the room to protect their Emperor, who was lounging on Nash's father's throne, now adorned with violet and burgundy pillows.

A swift blow to the back of his legs sent Nash to his knees, and an equally swift kick to his side sent him sprawling flat on the floor.

"Ah, Lord Heartland, how nice of you to join us," Emperor Domitian said. The sound of his voice made Nash's skin crawl.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting for so long, your majesty."

"No apologies necessary. I can see the time you took to execute my orders was well-spent. So, aren't you going to show me your prize?"

Nash, bristling at being referred to as a 'prize,' was hauled up from the floor and forced to kneel before the Astranian traitor with his head bowed.

"It gives me such a warm feeling," Domitian said, "Seeing a useless brat put in his proper place. Why on earth is he gagged like that?"

"The boy used his teeth as weapons against us," Heartland said smoothly. "I thought it best not to take any chances."

"So, that injury of yours is your captive's doing, eh, Barinek?" Domitian's chuckle held no amusement. "You'd better get that taken care of before it becomes infected."

"Ye-yes your majesty. Th-thank you." There were sounds of a person quickly leaving the room.

"In fact, all of you had better go and freshen up. You all look inexcusable." There was a whole lot more noise as all the soldiers left the room. Now, only Heartland and Nash were left kneeling at Domitian's feet. Nash's neck was beginning to get a crick in it, he'd been forced to hold his head so low for so long.

To both his relief and annoyance, a large hand reached down and gripped his chin, pulling his head upward. Nash found himself face to face with Emperor Domitian.

"Well, well, well," Domitian laughed. "You don't look like much, boy. I'm surprised you outran my soldiers for so long." The disgusting man turned Nash's head to one side and then the other, examining him. Nash wanted desperately to spit on him, but his mouth was almost dry because of the leather gag.

"Let us see what you have to say, boy," Domitian said, motioning one of his guards forward. Soon, Nash was released from the horrible gag. Doing his best not to look extremely relieved, he worked his jaw back and forth and licked his lips. "Well? Nothing to say to your new Emperor?"

"You're not my Emperor," Nash said quietly. "I am your captive, but I am also your equal. You killed my father. That makes me the real ruler of these lands, unless you kill me or I hand over my throne to you."

Domitian threw back his head and laughed. "This boy has spunk, men! I wonder if that will last all the way to the executioner's block!"

"You plan to execute me?" Nash's voice held no sign of fear. He himself wasn't completely unsurprised at this. As brave as Nash was, he didn't want to die, not when he'd lived such a short time.

"Of course I do," Domitian's voice became low and menacing. "I execute all the _rulers_ that I capture in front of all their people, so they can see for themselves how weak their so called _leaders_ are."

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why do you attack other kingdoms, raid them and slaughter their people?"

"I do it for glory! I do it so everyone will know that Emperor Domitian is the greatest ruler that ever lived!"

"Then why did you sign the treaty of alliance with the other Barian regions and then go behind their backs? You call that glory?" Nash was determined to satisfy his curiosity before he died.

"If those weaklings had any good plans for the future of Baria, they would have listened to me! As soon as we decided to ally ourselves, our next step should have been to attack Heartland and enslave all of those barbarians, making use of their hordes of wealth. But, no, your father is elected leader, and he says that we must stop our attacks, and end slavery. Then- _then_ the infidel says that he will make _peace_ with the Heartlanders! I knew I had to act fast to save the glory of our kingdom. Lord Heartland gave me the perfect opportunity. I knew your father would be so excited over an opening to negotiate with our land's long-time enemies that he wouldn't other checking Heartland's story. All he wanted in return for his services was a small portion of the future Barian Empire and a title or two, maybe some gold to go along with it. A small price to pay for eliminating your fool of a father."

"You were jealous because he was elected leader, weren't you?" Nash said. Domitian recoiled. How could this brat have read him so well? Furious, the man lashed out and struck Nash across the face. "You weren't even elected to the Imperial Council!" Nash yelled, blood spurting from his mouth. "Your wife, Empress Vivian, was considered more suited to the position! You couldn't stand that, could you? You-"

Nash was cut off by another violent slap to his face, this one strong enough to knock him to the ground.

"To the dungeons with him!" Domitian roared. "He will die tomorrow morning in front of all the citizens of this pathetic island!"

"You don't want to do that," Nash said, looking straight at his enemy.

"Oh? And why is that?" Domitian's voice was deadly.

"Because you haven't captured my sisters yet."

"My guards will find them. They will follow you to the block shortly, I assure you."

"You won't gain much by doing that."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Simply this: keep me alive, and my sister will leave you alone. She'll be afraid of what you will do to me if she comes back with help."

"Keep you alive? So you can have chances to escape? So I can lose face and be accused of being weak and merciful? Don't be a fool! Besides, where would your sister get help?"

"I wasn't finished," Nash said. "If you let me live, I will do whatever you wish to keep my sister safe. Call off the search for her. Keep me, the crown prince of the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean, as your personal slave. What better revenge is there? You strike down the man who wanted to make peace with Heartland, take his lands, and enslave his son? That will certainly prove to the people that you are the better ruler, which is what you want, right? I won't try to run away. I will serve you as my master willingly- _if_ you let my sister go."

Emperor Domitian sat back and stroked his chin. "You intrigue me, boy. I can see that you are very intelligent. You're saying that I should take my revenge and get rid of the risk that, on finding out that you are dead, your sister will not fear what I may do to you and feel free to attack me in revenge?"

"Yes, master," Nash said, forcing the words out of his mouth. He wanted to give Domitian a taste of what this deal meant for him. Nash dreaded becoming a slave- a piece of property; but Marin and Iris wouldn't stand a chance against hordes of enemy soldiers hunting them down. Also, Drachelm might be dragged into the conflict as well.

"Very well. From this day forward, you are my willing slave, and the Princesses of this kingdom are to be left alone. Slave?"

"Master?"

"Ah, it gives me such an indescribable pleasure to hear you say that. Slave, the first thing I will do as your master is to give you a new name."

"Whatever pleases you, master," Nash said, fighting back tears.

"Hmm. Any suggestions, Heartland?"

"If it pleases your majesty, I would call him 'Shark.'"

"Shark? Why?"

"It is a nickname the peasant children have for him, because he is quite handy with a sword, even at his young age. Now, however, they will see what good his fierce reputation has done for him- and that you are the great man that has tamed this so-called 'Shark.'"

Nash gritted his teeth. Domitian had not 'tamed' him. The only reason he was a slave was because he had asked to become one!

"'Shark,'" Domitian said. "I like it. I have often imagined having such a wild beast as a pet. I think my deceased enemy's son will do nicely. Guards!"

"Yes, your majesty?" two guards approached, each of them clutching a large spear. Nash- no, Shark; knew not to be fooled by them, though. Astranian spears were lightweight and easy to handle in battle.

"Take my new slave to my chambers and prepare him for his new duties."

"Yes, your majesty." The two guards each grabbed Shark and pulled him to his feet before hauling out of the room.

"Be prepared to work hard, Shark! Your royal training will be of no use to you now!" Emperor Domitian called to him, before laughing cruelly.


	5. Rio and Iris Kastle

"Careful now, watch your step," The man called Mr. Tillbitty said. Marin translated this to Iris in a whisper. Iris's lessons in Heartlandish had barely started, seeing as she was only four years old.

The two of them were following Mr. Tillbitty down the narrow, wooden steps that led to the galley of the _Sybil_. Iris clutched Marin's hand as they descended into the dark hole, which smelled like nothing she had ever encountered. Both girls let out a sigh of relief as they reached the end of the rickety stairs.

"You two sit over there," Mr. Tillbitty said, pointing to a long narrow table with benches on either side of it. All three pieces of furniture had been nailed to the floor. Marin pulled Iris over to the bench that was against the wall and helped her to sit down before taking a seat next to her. Mr. Tillbitty was going through the provisions that the boy from the ship had taken from them. Marin didn't know when he had brought them down to the galley, though.

"You girls weren't well-prepared for an ocean voyage. These supplies would have lasted you a week at most."

 _It was only supposed to last us a week._

"By the way, my name is Tombo, not Mr. Tillbitty, Mister, Tillbitty, sir, or master, got it?" Marin nodded quickly. "So, what to you two call yourselves?"

The bluenette froze. She couldn't tell him her real name- anyone on board the ship might recognize it as the name of the Princess of the United Lands, and she still didn't know who it was that had attacked her kingdom. What should she say?

"Rio Kastle," she said. "This is my sister, Iris." Marin still remembered the day her father had taught her and Nash about the Heartlanders' practice of identifying whole families by their names. He had then shown then their coat of arms and they had deciphered it. The coat of arms was a symbol that the ancestors of the citizens if the United Lands had used to identify themselves. It contained the symbols that, when separated, made the sounds 'kuh,' 'a' and 'stle.'

After making different combinations with them for a while, the three royals had decided that their family name was _Kastle._ The princess had never thought that she'd use it, though.

She had chosen the name Rio simply enough. Marin was derived from the Salkie word for water, and Rio meant river in Heartlandish. Iris was the name of a flower that grew almost anywhere. It could be any girl's name.

Tombo looked at Rio in surprise. "I thought they said you were Barian."

"We are. I just translated our names into Heartlandish and tacked on our clan name," she said carefully.

"Oh, alright. Glad to meet you, Rio and Iris Kastle." Neither of the names were very popular in Heartland currently, but looking at them on paper, no one would guess that the sisters were Barians.

"So, what were you two doing drifting around in the middle of the ocean?"

"Running away," Rio said. "We have no family besides each other, so we were trying to find a place to start a new life. We lost our oars along the way. I've never seen a hearth on board a ship before." She was desperate to get the conversation off Iris and herself.

Tombo was currently ladling something from a large pot hanging over a fire into two bowls. It was to this fire place that Rio was referring.

"Oh, I don't know how it works," Tombo said, bringing the two bowls of soup, along with two of pieces of flatbread and two cups of water over to the sisters, "But some guy about half a century ago figured out how to put a fire on a ship without weighing it down with stones or there being a risk of setting it on fire. It's become very popular- they put it in all the new ships being manufactured nowadays."

Tombo sat down across from the girls and watched them. Rio stared down into the bowl before her, which was filled with a thick, red liquid. She had absolutely no idea what it was.

"What's the matter? Aren't you hungry?"

"Yes, it's just…" Rio hesitated. "What is it?"

"What do you mean, 'what is it?' You mean you've never had tomato soup before?"

Rio shook her head. "I don't think we have tomatoes in Baria."

"Don't have-" Tombo was incredulous. "Well you don't know what you've been missing! Go ahead, take a spoonful, you'll be amazed at how good it tastes!"

Deciding to ask what a spoonful was later, Rio ripped off a piece of her flatbread and dipped it in the tomato soup, swirling it around before bringing it to her mouth. "Mmmm… it _is_ good," she said, and she meant it. "Try it, Iris," she told her sister in Barian, ripping off another piece of flatbread. Soon both girls were enjoying the bread and soup.

"There. Didn't I tell you?" Tombo asked proudly.

"Are you the cook on board this ship, Tombo?" Rio asked.

"Yes, I am. Well, actually, it's only temporary. You see, I'm a tomato merchant by profession. I've spent the last six months down at my plantations in the Southern Isles. I just hitched a ride with these Arclight slave traders to get back home. I'll disembark in Arclight and then head back home to Tsukamo over land."

Rio nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of water. She knew that Tsukamo and Arclight shared the main part of Heartland, with Arclight on the west side and Tsukamo on the east side. Tenjo occupied the peninsula on the northern part of the continent.

Tombo let out a long sigh, shifting a bit in his seat. "I don't like slavery," he said. "Few Tsukamonians do. Empress Haru abolished it two years before she decided to pass the throne on to her son, Kazuma. He's spent a great deal of his efforts in eradicating slavery; not only in Tsukamo, but in all of Heartland. He made alliances with both King Byron of Arclight and Lord Faker of Tenjo and has been trying to convince them to get rid of slavery in their countries. Lord Faker is as stubborn as all get-out, but King Byron was convinced by Emperor Kazuma that slavery is morally evil. Unfortunately, his subjects like having unpaid labor at their fingertips."

Tombo let out a breath of disgust. "King Byron made laws that will bring around the eventual end of slavery in his kingdom. If a slave raises a certain sum on his own time, he can purchase his freedom. All children born to slaves are free. Also, slaves can bring their masters to court on charges of pour treatment. If the charges are proved true, the master is imprisoned and the slave is freed. In fact, this is one of the last shipments into the country. At the end of this year, no one will be allowed to ship new loads of slaves into Arclight. Of course, this is one of the last shipments, because no slave trader will be crazy enough to set sail once the harsh waters of Autumn and Winter come around. If all goes well, slavery will be eradicated in Arclight within a generation."

The large tomato merchant studied Rio and Iris, both of whom had finished their soup by drinking it straight from the bowl. "I guess my point is that you don't need to fear being a slave in Arclight. You'll be treated well."

That night, as Rio lay curled up next to Iris's sleeping form, she thought over everything that Tombo had told her. Emperor Kazuma had ended slavery, King Byron was taking measures to end it, and though slavery was thriving in the southern isles, they could never have stood against the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean. That left Tenjo as the most likely one who had attacked her kingdom. But what had motivated their sudden invasion?

Rio squeezed her eyes tight against the tears that threatened to fall at the thoughts of her home… and her brother.

 _Oh, Nash,_ she thought, _wherever you are, I hope you're safe._

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Word of the attack on the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean reaches Drachelm.**


	6. News Reaches Drachelm

Drachelm was a land of green fields, rolling, hills, and lovely little creeks. The royal palace was made of white marble, with many turrets and towers, and it stood very close to one of these creeks. It was in this particular creek, in the crystal clear and numbingly cold water, that seven-year old Dumon liked to play. Of course, he would turn eight very soon, something he liked to remind people of. His friends Prince Nash and Princess Marin had already turned eight earlier in the rainy season. Nash would always tease Dumon about being younger than him during the few changes of the moon that it was actually true.

"Come on down into the water, Mach!" Dumon called to the young Pegasus. Drachelm was the only place in the world where the mysterious winged horses could be found, hence the name of the Pegasus Channel, the narrow strip of water that separated the United Lands from Drachelm.

Mach whinnied to his companion in a mixture of encouragement and hesitation. Like all horses, regardless of whether or not they had wings, Mach was nervous about things unknown to him. It was Dumon's job to teach Mach that the world wasn't as scary as it seemed.

There was a special rule about the great Pegasus and the humans that lived on Drachelm: They chose you, you didn't choose them. That was the way it had been with Mach and Dumon. The young Pegasus foal had wandered into the Knights' Compound and immediately adopted Dumon as his own. That had been before the rains had come and gone twice, when Dumon was only six. To be chosen by a Pegasus was a great honor, and the King of Drachelm had congratulated Dumon personally. It had made his father very proud.

Stalminus was the leading knight in the service of the king. He was also his closest friend and advisor. Stalminus had, in fact, been offered the position of Chief Councilor every year by the King, but he always turned it down. He said he could never be comfortable living in the palace and attending all sorts of dinners and events. However, the King and all of Drachelm had been very pleased when Stalminus had accepted the nomination to the Imperial Council. Then, it had been Dumon's turn to be proud of his father.

After he had dried off and put his shoes back on, Dumon and Mach started back towards the castle, stopping every once and a while so Mach could grab a mouthful of tender grass. When they got closer, however; the boy was immediately alerted that something was wrong. For one thing, the Knight's Compound was deserted and silent. It was never deserted or silent. There was always at least one person there going through a training drill.

"You go back to your stall, Mach," Dumon said. "I'm going to find out what's going on." He hurried to the servants' entrance to the palace and slipped inside. Making his way to the kitchens, he was soon met with a flutter of activity as all the kitchen servants raced around, fetching and carrying.

"Rosa!" Dumon called out to a young serving girl that he had befriended as she raced past.

"Oh, Dumon!" the girl cried, turning back to him, revealing her pale and drawn face. "We've just received word- The United Lands of the Pacific Ocean were attacked!"

Dumon felt like he'd been hit in the stomach. "Attacked? By who?"

"Astrania! Some refugees arrived only a short while ago and told us. We're preparing a meal for them now. Your father's in the Dining Hall talking to them now."

"Rosa!" Another servant called to her.

"I'd better go," the servant girl said, hurrying away to where she was needed. His heart pounding in his chest, Dumon pushed his way through the kitchen crowd and raced to the Dining Hall. It couldn't be true, could it?

He arrived panting and shoved the large oak doors to the Hall open. Once inside, he could only stare in shock. Maybe twenty people, all looking haggard and exhausted, were sitting at the large oak dining table. Dumon's father, the King, and other important men of the Kingdom were talking to the refugees in quiet voices. They looked up when they heard Dumon enter.

"Son, you're here," Stalminus said, swiftly making his way towards him.

"Y-yes, I- I heard. It- it's not true, is it? Astrania betrayed the alliance and… and attacked Nash and Marin's homeland?"

"I'm afraid so, son."

"But… but what happened to my friends? And Emperor Ralphenom and Empress Toria?"

"The Emperor and his wife are dead," one of the refugees said flatly. "The traitor Domitian killed them and then strung them up by their feet to disgrace them."

"The boy didn't need to know the details," Stalminus said sternly, before kneeling down to Dumon's level. "It's true, son. The leader of the Seven Barian Emperors and his wife were slaughtered by Emperor Domitian."

"But- but what about Nash?"

Stalminus let out a long, sorrowful sigh and stroked his gray beard, which he always did when he was distressed. "You would have had to experience this hardship, eventually, as a knight," he said. "I just wish it had not been thrust upon you at such a young age. Dumon, your friend was captured by Domitian's men. I'm afraid that means…"

Dumon clung to his father desperately, willing him not to say it. He felt as though he had been disconnected from his body somehow, like this was all some sort of awful dream. Domitian of Astrania was known for his bloodlust. It was the reason why he had not been elected to the Imperial Council. His people had feared he would use the extra power to start wars.

"I'm sorry, Dumon, but… your friend is most surely dead by now."

"Ma- Marin?" Dumon choked out.

"We're not sure what became of her, but… It is a well-known Astranian policy to never leave any member of the royal family of a conquered land alive. I am sorry, son."

Dumon knew he was sorry. He could see the heavy sorrow in his father's gray eyes. But it didn't take away the hurt. He fled. He ran out of the Dining Hall and through the halls of the castle, and he didn't stop running until he had reached the stables. With trembling fingers, Dumon unlatched Mach's stall and slipped inside, wrapping his arms around his friend and burying his face in his warm neck. Mach stood quietly as Dumon sobbed, gently opening one of his majestic wings and covering him with it.

Dumon was barely aware of this gesture of comfort. The heartache was too much to bear. He had known three great friends in his young life, and now two of them were dead.

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Nash's life has become a living hell.**


	7. Pet Shark

"Hey, slave boy! You missed a spot!" All the guards in the hallway laughed uproariously at their comrade's joke. Gritting his teeth to hold back a retort, Shark scrubbed the floor beneath him even harder.

Being jeered at by Domitian's men was part of the daily routine. The men who had been responsible for tracking him down had quickly spread the word about how much trouble he had caused, and since then all the soldiers had been out to make his life miserable.

Well, even more miserable, to be exact. Domitian also took delight in tormenting Shark. For instance, on the morning after the confrontation in the throne room, Domitian had demanded that Shark make his bed. Being royalty, Shark had never made a bed before in his life. He had done his best, though; and he had thought it looked pretty good. His master had not shared his sentiments. As a result, Shark had been whipped with a leather strap (also a new experience for him) and deprived of breakfast.

The boy had soon learned that this was how life as a Domitian's slave was to be for him. Please him, and he would be fed. Displease him, and he would not eat and he would suffer a beating. Shark also learned that whether or not he pleased the insane Emperor was not up to him. How Domitian decided to treat Shark on a day-to-day basis depended on his mood.

Fortunately, Shark was a quick learner, and therefore avoided a few beatings from the man. He quickly picked up not only how to make beds, but also how to do the laundry, wash dishes, clean floors, polish jewels and weapons, and set tables.

Even on the best of days, Shark's life was nowhere near to being happy. He had been stripped of all signs of royalty, dressed instead in a coarse, brown, and raggedy tunic and trousers. He was given no shoes, forced to go barefoot everywhere he went. When he was fed, it was usually some stale bread and a cup of water. He slept on the floor in a corner of Domitian's room, which had once belonged to Emperor Ralphenom. There were weapons on all of the walls now; filling him with a sense of horror every time he looked at them, gleaming in the darkness.

The only thing that kept him going now that his life was so wretched was the thought that Marin and Iris were safe, out of Domitian's reach. At moments like this, when he was being mocked by his enemies, he would think about Marin, Iris, and Dumon, and how even though his stomach growled with hunger, theirs were full of good food.

When he was finished with the floor, he got to his feet and stretched, trying to relieve the pain in his back and knees from being on the floor so long, before putting away the cleaning supplies and heading off to his next chore: polishing all of Domitian's boots.

The Astranian Emperor always wore boots, never sandals. Shark liked to think it was because he was scared that, should he leave his feet uncovered, an enemy of his would release a venomous snake that would slither up next to him and sink its fangs into his exposed big toe.

Laughing at the idea of both Domitian and the snake dropping dead at the same time- one from venom and the other from the taste of its victim, Shark got to work polishing the endless line of boots. He had just finished- his arms were killing him from rubbing so hard- when Domitian entered the room. Quickly, Shark presses his forehead to the ground. His master had quickly made it a rule that any slave or servant was to do this upon his approach. Anyone who failed to obey would either be beheaded or flogged with a bull whip, depending on his majesty's mood.

"Glad to see you're learning how to work hard, Shark," Domitian said, examining his boots.

"Thank you, master," Shark said. He held his breath and waited to see of this would be taken as a compliment or speaking without permission. When Domitian began talking again, Shark started to breathe again, too.

"I have a special job for you during dinner. Marleen will take you to get ready, and then I will come for you. Do as you're told and keep your eyes on the floor and we shouldn't have an issue. Understood?"

"Yes, master," Shark said hastily, a knot of dread building in his stomach.

Marleen had been a servant in the palace before the invasion, well-paid for her hard work. Now, she was reduced to the status of a slave- she either did as she was told or faced death. Several palace servants had already been executed for their loyalty to Emperor Ralphenom and Empress Toria. As she escorted Shark down the hall to the baths, she neither spoke nor made eye contact with him. Shark knew why- Domitian had forbidden anyone previously employed under his father's roof to acknowledge him, on penalty of death.

For the first time in many changes of the moon, Shark was allowed to bathe that afternoon. It was nothing like the royal baths he was used to- with warm water and the sweet smells of soaps and shampoos perfuming the air- but it was a bath nonetheless.

Shark was told to make it snappy, and the cold water didn't make that very difficult, but even though he went quickly, he made sure to scrub every inch of his body well. Who knew when he would be able to bathe again? When he was finished, he dried off and was surprised to find some of his old royal clothes laid out for him, complete with a set of gold arm bands and bracelets, the kind he would have worn to a special event. It was at this point that Shark began to get nervous.

Why would Domitian want to dress him as royalty? The only reason that came to his mind was that he was to be executed publically, and that Domitian wanted people to be sure that he was Crown Prince Nash.

 _But we made a deal,_ he tried to assure himself. His heart sank down into his toes. Domitian had proven that he was not a man to keep his word.

So, when he arrived later, just as the sun had begun to descend in the sky, Shark met him eye-to-eye.

"Why, Shark," Domitian said, surprised, "Have we forgotten the rules already?"

"The rules hardly matter now, do they?" Shark asked, his voice flat, "Now that you've decided to execute me."

Domitian stared at him for a moment, before throwing back his head and bursting into hysterical laughter. "Execute you? We have a deal, slave; I won't be killing you anytime soon." He smirked down at Shark, an evil glint in his eyes. "Besides, you don't get to die yet, Shark."

A cold chill swept over the purplette as Domitian's words sank in. Slowly, he got down onto the floor and pressed his forehead against the cool marble.

"That's more like it," the Emperor said, approaching him. "Now Shark, I've had an extra, um… adornment made for you to wear to dinner tonight. Stay still while I put it on." Domitian's shadow fell over Shark's body as he leaned over him, something clinking in his hands. Shark felt something cold and metallic encircling his throat and heard the _snap_ as it was clasped shut. Whatever it was, it was loose enough not to choke him, but tight enough to remind him that it was there.

"Now, slave, get up and follow me. Don't look anybody in the eye, unless you want to be punished later."

"Yes master." 

"I did not give you permission to speak!" Domitian backhanded him across the face. Shark bit his lip against the pain, but did not cry out. "Now, come!" Domitian turned towards the door, and it was then that Shark saw the golden chain in Domitian's hand. He tried very hard not to attack the man in that moment, when he realized exactly what he was now wearing around his neck: a collar, with a leash attached to it. Shark was so outraged by this humiliation that he forgot to follow his _master,_ which resulted in him being yanked forward by his throat.

He soon found out that wearing a leash meant that he was going to be yanked along no matter how quickly he walked, however. All Shark could do was try to not be knocked off his feet as he was dragged down the hall.

When they reached their destination- the dining hall, Shark realized- a herald announced Emperor Domitian's arrival, and the man swept into the room, pulling his slave behind him.

Sitting around the table in the room were the governors of the other four islands that made up the United Lands. Phelika of Gelben was a proper woman, always impeccably dressed, tall and imposing, and although she was not a physically attractive woman, Emperor Ralphenom had used to say that her true beauty came from inside. Phelika was very generous with her island's wealth. She had always brought gifts to Nash and his sisters when she visited.

Alkon was an elderly man, governor of Rotē, who had served as a General in the army for many years. Even now, though he had white hair and many wrinkles, he was not the type of person you'd want to face in battle.

From Vairz came Lukka, a middle-aged man with great knowledge of lands beyond Heartland and Baria because of his days as a merchant. He was clean-shaven, and had piercing black eyes that could give quite a terrifying stare.

Finally, the youngest of the four, Rabar, came from Lilalien. He was a young man, very excitable and very proud.

When the four governors saw their crown prince being led like an animal behind the man who had conquered their lands, there were gasps of horror and outrage. Rabar, of course, was the first to speak.

"You barbarian! Release him at once!"

Domitian was amused. "Who? Oh, him? Don't worry; he's fine right where he is. Gentlemen, and my lady, of course," he said, nodding courteously to Phelika, whose face had an odd expression on it, as if she was trying very hard not to spit at him, "Allow me to introduce my pet shark." He tugged on the leash, pulling Shark to his side.

"Your pet," Phelika spat indignantly. Domitian smiled at her.

"Yes. My pet. Tell me, Lukka," he said, turning to the Vairzian, "You have traveled a great deal. Does any other ruler have such an exotic creature at their feet, to wait on them hand and foot?" Shark almost hit him.

"Considering that I have never met a ruler; nay, any _man_ as despicable as yourself, I can say, quite honestly, no." Domitian just smiled wide, as though Lukka had paid him a compliment.

"Your prince has made the wise choice of submitting to me, rather than losing his life. I would suggest you all do the same."

Rabar turned red with anger at this remark. "You expect us to submit to you?"

"Perhaps," Phelika said quickly, "We should not lose our tempers, Lord Rabar."

Scowling, Rabar held his peace.

"An excellent suggestion, Lady Phelika," Domitian applauded her. Negotiations can wait, though. For now, the food will be served!" He clapped his hands, and some slave girls quickly flooded the room, placing platters of food on the table.

The meal was extremely awkward, because rather than asking his guests to pass things to him, Domitian sent Shark around the table to fetch them. "Slave, more wine." "Boy, fetch me some bread." "Stop your dawdling, Shark!" Shark couldn't help dawdling. The smell of the food was making his mouth water. He hadn't been fed since the previous morning.

The governors ate hardly anything. "Not hungry?" Domitian asked them lightly.

"Now, about this negotiating business," Domitian began after the food was cleared away. "It is very simple. My men shall be coming to your islands to regulate things, under the orders of the new governors, who will be appointed by and answer only to me. Which means, you will all be out of a job!" he smirked. "So, you will have time to do all those things you've been meaning to do. Visit with the grandchildren, perhaps. If you resist, I'm afraid I shall have to use force to get what I want, which means many of your innocent subjects will be killed. I'm sure none of you would like to be responsible for that. So you see, it is completely to your advantage to submit to me, just as your former leader's son has."

Rabar jumped to his feet, glaring. "You're mad!" he exclaimed.

Domitian raised his eyebrows. "Is that a no, Lord Rabar?"

"Of course it's a no! Our lands are not yours for the taking!"

Domitian sighed. "I was afraid it would come to this," he said, rising. He approached Rabar and stood directly in front of him. "So, you absolutely refuse to accept my generous offer?"

"Your generous- I refuse to listen to this gibberish any longer!" Rabar rose from his seat and turned as though he was going to march out of the room. He never got the chance. Before anyone realized what was happening, Domitian had drawn his sword and cut the young man down.

Bile rose in Shark's throat as the young man's body silently crumbled to the ground. He turned away, blackness beginning to seep into his vision. _Marin. Iris. I'm so glad you're not here and didn't have to see this._

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Rio and Iris reach Arclight and are taken to the Slave Market.**


	8. Heartland

Rio Kastle gazed out at the port of Herald's Crest, which was teaming with activity as people bustled about, either going shopping at the various stalls that dotted the port or working on the wharves. Vendors walked up and down the street, calling out to customers.

"Coca-Cola! Nice, cool Coca-Cola!"

"Pretzels, freshly made!"

"Hot potatoes! Steaming, hot, and well-seasoned hot potatoes!"

Neither Rio nor Iris had ever seen anything like it. Or heard anything like it, for that matter. They had no idea what Coca-Cola or Pretzels were. Potatoes they were familiar with, since they could grow almost anywhere.

Markets in Baria were far more civilized. Customers would stroll about, examining products and chatting with the merchants, who were all older men and women. The women would work on needle or bead work, and the men would usually be carving something out of a stick of wood. They would chat with the customers, not about buying and selling, but just in general, and eventually the shopper would purchase something or move on, and the merchant would go back to their handy work. There wasn't all this hustle and bustle.

The port was called Herald's Crest, Tombo had told them, because it was usually the last stop a messenger would make before heading to the royal place, which was half a day's ride inland.

"The heralds used to say that coming into this port was like reaching the crest of the last hill of their journey, and it would fill them with new vigor to see their destination within their grasp," Tombo had said. The tomato merchant had been explaining a lot of things about Heartland to the sisters over the past weeks while they sailed together. The most important thing he had taught them was how Heartlanders told time.

Rio had asked him about it one day because she could not understand the words he constantly used, such as 'year,' 'month,' and 'week.' Tombo had asked her how they kept time in Baria, that she did not understand these words.

"By the movement of the sun and moon and the coming and going of the rains, of course!" she had exclaimed. "In the morning, the sun comes up, and then it passes through the sky. We keep track of time during the light it gives off by estimating how many times it has moved in the sky. Or, if it is in the middle of the light, we say that it was when the sun was high in the sky. It's the same after the sun has set. Then, the moon comes out and also travels across the heavens. Every time the sun or moon moves completely across the sky, we say that a sun cycle* or a moon cycle has passed.

"Also, we keep track of how the moon changes shape. When the moon has gone from being a full circle, to a semi-circle, to a full circle again, with all of the other crests in between, we say that the moon has made a full change.

"Finally, the longest length of time we measure is the coming and going of the rains. In the beginning, the rains come while it's still a bit cold out, so this is called the rainy season- the perfect time for planting. Then, it gets very hot out, so we call it the hot rainy season, in which everything grows. Then, in the dry season, it's harvest time, and finally, in the cold dry season, we all try to keep warm."

Rio had laughed at the look on Tombo's face. "I've never thought about it that way before," he had said. "Well, let me try to tell you about the way we track time. Now, when you track the movement of the sun and the moon across the sky, we do the same thing, but we call each shift of the sun and moon an hour. Now, each hour is divided into 60 even parts, called minutes. Each minute is also divided into 60 equal parts, called seconds."

Rio stared at him. "How to you keep track of all that?" she had asked. It was then that Tombo had showed her his watch and explained how they used it to keep track of the passage of their hours and minutes and seconds.

"Each time one complete sun cycle and one complete moon cycle have passed, we say one day has gone by. Seven days equals one week."

"How come a week isn't sixty days?" Iris had asked. It was the first time she had spoken on board the ship, and Rio had been very relieved, even though Tombo hadn't known how to answer her question

"Then, you told me about the changes of the moon," he had continued. "Now, we have something similar to that, called months. Each month is about the length of a moon change, as you call them, give or take a little.

"Finally, you mentioned the different seasons. We have those too. We call the rainy season 'spring,' the hot rainy season 'summer,' the dry season 'autumn,' and the cold dry season 'winter.' All four of these seasons combined make up one year of Heartlandish time. Then we have decades, which are ten years, and centuries, which are 100 years."

Rio and Iris had thought this was the most confusing way ever to tell time, and they had told Tombo so. He had just laughed, and told them that, considering the logic behind their system, he wasn't at all surprised they felt that way.

Now, Rio went over the rules of Heartlandish time once again, just so she could be sure.

"Hey," a voice said from behind her. Rio jumped.

"Oh. Cody. Don't sneak up on me like that!" she scowled at the grin on the older boy's lips. Cody Callis was the first mate's son, and also the boy who had boarded Rio and Iris's little boat all those _weeks_ ago. He had become the girls' only other friend besides Tombo, and had helped Rio to perfect her Heartlandish and begin to teach Iris the basics.

"You think you're going to be alright?" Cody asked. "Being sold at market?"

"I'm sure I can handle it," Rio said stiffly. She was a Barian Princess, after all.

Once setting foot on the dock, Rio was startled to feel the ground moving underneath her. Tombo laughed at the look on her face. "Don't worry, Rio. It's just because you've been at sea for a while. It'll wear off in a while."

Rio gazed up at him, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I guess this is goodbye," she said. "Thank you for everything Tombo." Rio held out her hand to him, and he solemnly accepted it.

"I shall miss you, Rio Kastle. And you too, Iris," he added, seeing the smaller girl hiding behind her sister. The greenette gave him a small wave, sucking on a strand of her hair to stop the tears from coming. "You two are strong. You'll be fine, whoever buys you."

Rio nodded. _Of course, we'll be alright. We will be alright!_ She told herself. She continued to try and reassure herself after Tombo's large form had disappeared.

However, as she walked next to Iris and the other slaves from the ship to the market, her confidence dropped with each step. Cody walked on her other side, trying to reassure her. She would most likely be purchased by an older woman who would like two young girls to assist her by running errands and helping her untangle her yarn, he said. No one would purchase two young girls for hard labor.

Looking at the throngs of customers flooding the slave market, Rio hoped he was right.eaHeH

 *** In the first chapter, I said that it would be six cycles of the sun before Nash and Marin saw each other again. According to my own logic explained in this chapter, that would be six days. It is really six years, so I have changed the first chapter to say that the rains will come and go six times.**


	9. The End of a Journey

To take her mind off the fact that she and her sister were about to be sold like jewelry, Rio put all of her attention on the slave market itself. From observing it, she could conclude that it functioned as both a market and an auction. The slaves were line up in different sections of the market, creating narrow walkways through which customers pushed and shoved each other. Many of the Arclightians looked at Rio and Iris with surprise and curiosity as they passed them, something neither girl could figure out. If a customer wanted a slave, they would find the seller and haggle with them over the price. Eventually, the slave would be purchased or the customer would walk away muttering about unreasonable prices.

Meanwhile, an auction was going on at one end of the market. Slaves were pushed up onto a large wooden platform, high enough so that all of the potential buyers would see them, and then the auctioneer would talk about their assets, making them as attractive as possible to the customers, and encouraging bids. It was sickening. There was a constant flow of slaves to be put on the auction block, because any slave in the market that wasn't currently being haggled over was effectively in line for the auctioneer.

No one had yet made an offer for the sisters, and Rio was dreading being pushed up on that platform and shown off to a bunch of men. That was another thing about this strange place- she had spotted very few women among the market's customers. They were all men, dressed similarly to the Captian of the _Sybil_ had been- high collars, long sleeves, knee-high boots, and layers of frilly clothing peeping out from underneath their large overcoats, which were buttoned all the way up. What was it with these Arclightians? It was hardly cold out. Were they really afraid to show any skin besides their hands and faces? Some even covered their hands with gloves. Rio shook her head in bewilderment at their fashion sense.

When they had first been pushed into line and told to "smile and look petty," Rio had hoped they might end up next to another little girl whom they could talk to in order to pass the time. However, she and Iris appeared to be the only children for sale today.

"Marin!" Iris said suddenly, tugging on her older sister's hand.

"It's Rio now, Iris," Rio reminded her. "We can't take the risk that someone knows Princess Marin's name."

"Rio. I forgot." Iris's face scrunched up for a moment. "Look over there!" she said finally, pointing towards a dark corner of the market, where a small boy crouched, sobbing into his hands. "He's sad, Rio," Iris said.

"Yes… come on!" Unlike all the other slaves in the market, neither of the sisters had been tied down, and Rio decided right then to take advantage of this. She had been told to stay put, but since when was Rio Kastle a girl who did as she was told?

Clutching Iris's hand, Rio made her way through the crowd, emerging at last to almost trip over the boy they had been trying to get to. Startled, the boy attempted to scramble away from them, but was so off balance that he landed on his bum. This brought on a fresh bout of tears, and Rio's heart melted.

"Hey, shh, it's okay," she said, kneeling next to him and beginning to rub his back in soothing circles. Iris, too, came forward, and placed her small hand over the boy's own.

"Don't be sad," she said. "Everything will be alright." The boy stopped crying and looked at Iris with big, emerald colored eyes. Rio studied him curiously. He was smaller than her, and only slightly bigger than Iris. His hair was a reddish pink, soft and curly. His skin was pale and smooth, like porcelain, though it looked very soft to the touch. His clothing looked expensive, though it was a bit rumpled.

"What's your name?" Rio asked him.

"Michael," the boy sniffed.

"Well, Michael," she said, pronouncing the strange name slowly, "Who's supposed to be looking after you?"

Michael's face crumpled and tears began to stream down his face once again. "I c-can't find m-m-my father and- and br-brothers," he sobbed. Rio quickly wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace.

"It's going to be okay," she assured him. "We'll help you to find your family."

He looked up at her tearfully. "How?" he hiccupped.

"We'll be able to search the entire market at once if we get up high enough. Come on!" With Iris's hand in one of hers and Michael's in the other, Rio shoved her way through the crowd towards the auction block. A few minutes ago, she had been dreading going up there, but now she was determined to do so.

"Going once… going twice… Sold! To the gentleman in the blue!" The recently purchased slave was dragged off the platform, keeping their head lowered and their eyes on their feet. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have- Oh! It, uh, looks as though we have a volunteer," the auctioneer said, laughing nervously.

"Do you see them?" Rio asked Michael, after she had dragged him up onto the auctions block.

Michael's emerald orbs scanned the crowd anxiously. "No, I- wait, there they are! Daddy! Thomas! Chris!" Michael began jumping up and down and waving his arms above his head. There were some good-natured laughs at the scene, as well as some growls of frustration. As Rio watched, a tall, middle-aged man with the most astonishing hair style she had ever seen made his way towards them. Following him were two older boys, one with wild red and yellow hair, and another with the same hairstyle as his father- a long braid over one shoulder Only unlike his father's hair, which was blonde, the eldest boy's was silver. _They must be Michael's brothers,_ she thought.

The crowd hushed and quickly parted, making way for the group of three. _He must be someone of importance, which would explain Michael's expensive clothing._

"Michael!" the man called out to his youngest, relief evident on his face.

"Daddy!" The boy jumped off the wooden platform and into his father's arms as soon as the man was close enough. Michael's father held him close, as though he would never let him out of his sight again. Watching them, Rio felt a sudden pang of longing for her own parents. She hadn't let herself think about them at all since the night of their escape. She was pretty sure they were dead- it was the only thing that made sense. People didn't conquer other people's kingdoms and then let the former rulers live.

"It was that girl, Daddy." Michael's voice snapped her back to reality. "She helped me to find you."

"You mean she's the one who pulled you up onto the _auction block_?" Michael nodded in response to his older brother's question. "You do realize what an auction block is, don't you?"

"Don't be paranoid, Thomas," his father said. He then turned to Rio. "I must say that was a stroke of genius on your part, my dear. A most interesting strategy, not something many people would have thought of. I applaud your resourcefulness. Please, tell me, what are your names?"

Rio stared at him, bug-eyed. Did all Arclightians talk this way, or just the rich ones? "I'm Rio Kastle," she said in response to his question. "This is my sister Iris Kastle."

"Well, Rio Kastle and Iris Kastle, is there anything I could do to repay you?"

"You could buy us," Rio said, uncertain about just when she had come up with that answer.

"You mean you're slaves here?" For the first time, the oldest of the three brothers spoke up. _He must be Chris,_ Rio thought, _since Thomas is the other one._

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?"

"I should say so!" The father exclaimed. He turned to the crowd and demanded, "Who claims to be the owner of these two girls?" He was not yelling, but his tone commanded attention nonetheless.

The Captian of the _Sybil_ appeared and bowed before the blonde man at the waist. "They are mine, your majesty." Rio's mouth dropped open in surprise. This man couldn't be King Byron, could he?

"I ought to have you arrested! It is illegal to sell children at slave auctions.

The Captain was aghast. "But- but your majesty, I-"

"No buts," snapped the one called Thomas. "Dad's law went into effect two months ago!"

The Captain relaxed visibly. "Ah. Then that can be very easily explained. You see, I have been conducting business in the Southern Isles for the past four months. Only one month ago did I set sail to return here with new slaves, all of which were over the age of 13. However, during the voyage, we encountered a violent storm, which threw us off course. As we tried to regain our bearings, these two girls came across our sights. They were drifting in a small row boat, having lost their oars, and with very limited supplies. We could not leave them in this condition, so we took them on board. Not knowing about your new law, I thought to make up for some of my losses on board ship by adding them to my cargo."

King Byron looked at him skeptically until his oldest, Crown Prince Christopher, tugged on his sleeve. "He must be telling the truth, Father," he whispered in Arclightian. "Look at the girls. They are undoubtedly westerners."

"Very well," King Byron said after a moment. "What would you estimate the damages to your ship to be, in terms of gold, Captian?"

The Captain of the _Sybil_ rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "40 pieces," he said.

Prince Thomas looked as though he was about to protest, but his father spoke up fist. "Here. 40 pieces. I'll be taking these girls with me now," he said firmly, counting out the coins and handing them to the Captian. "Just remember not to sell any more children at auction, as long as the slave trade is still legal in my country." 

"Yes, your majesty, thank you," The Captain bowed again, before tuning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Rio and Iris get to know about their new masters- and about their incredibly strange country.**


	10. The Arclight Royals

"Now," King Byron said, "Chris, take Rio's hand in one of yours and Thomas's in the other-"

"I don't need Chris to hold my hand!" Thomas snapped.

His father sighed. It was evident that he was used to this type of behavior from his middle child. "Thomas, after losing Michael, I'm not going to take any more chances. This market is a big place and I don't want you to end up wandering around by yourself. Now, please be sensible and hold onto your brother so we don't have any more incidents today." Scowling, Prince Thomas did as he was told. "Rio, you can look after your sister, right?"

"Yes… um, your highness," Rio said hesitantly. She wasn't sure of the protocol in addressing Arclightian royalty. Luckily, the title of respect she gave him seemed to be sufficient.

"Okay, so with Thomas holding onto Chris and Chris holding onto Rio and Rio holding onto… Iris, wasn't it?" Shyly, the smaller girl nodded. "- We shouldn't lose anyone else." King Byron still had not put Michael down, and it was evident that he intended to carry him all the way to wherever they we're going.

"Are Rio and Iris coming to live with us, Daddy?" the youngest of the three brothers asked.

"Yes," his father said, leading the way through the market. Rio noticed that people always hastened to get out of the way and give nods of respect as he passed, even though there was no crier going ahead of them to announce his arrival, as there would have been in Baria.

"Yay!" Wriggling around in his father's arms to look back at his brothers and the two sisters, Michael beamed at them. "You'll love living with us," he said. "We have gardens and fountains to play in as well as all sorts of cool toys that used to belong to Chris and Thomas before they gave them to me. I'll show you all of them when we get there. We'll have so much fun! There aren't a lot of people my age around the palace that I get to play with."

"How old are you, Prince Michael?" Rio asked.

"I'm six! I just turned six in March."

 _March?_ Rio wondered what that was.

"Then that means you're right in between Rio and me!" Iris piped up. "Rio is eight and I'm four."

"That's awesome!" Michael cheered.

"Well I'm nine," Thomas said smugly. "That makes me older than all three of you."

"But you're forgetting that I'm 14," Chris added. "That makes me the oldest."

"Actually, I'm so old that it's forbidden to tell anyone my actual age, which makes _me_ the oldest," King Byron said good-naturedly. Rio wondered what he had meant by that. It was no shameful thing to have many years of living behind you.

"Tell us, Rio," Chris said after a few minutes of silence. "What were you and your sister doing drifting around the ocean when the _Sybil_ found you?" Quickly Rio gave the Arclight royal family the same story she had given both Tombo and Cody when they had asked about her past.

"We're not trained slaves or anything," Rio said slowly, "But we'll do our best, your majesty."

"What? Oh, that's alright, Rio. I don't intend to keep you as slaves. You can stay on at the palace as our guests until you decide to move on. Then we will do all we can to help you achieve a better future."

"But we can't do that, your majesty," Rio said firmly. Barians had a strict, unwritten rule about charity: Nothing shall be taken that is not paid back at some point. It was shameful to be beholden to any man or woman. "If you will shelter us and give us food to eat and clothes to wear, then we will count ourselves as servants in your household. We will not accept things for free. To do so would be detrimental to our honor."

It was evident that King Byron wanted to protest this statement, but when he saw the firm, unrelenting look in Rio's eyes, he decided against it. "Alright, if that's what you girls would like, I'm sure Mrs. Millis - our housekeeper- will be able to find work for you to do."

"Thank you, your majesty."

Prince Thomas had never met a girl like this Rio Kastle ever before. She had a strength about her- an independence that Heartlandish girls did not. She asked to be put to work, she held her head up high even though she had been labeled a slave, and she carried herself as though equal with them, the royal family of Arclight. He was fascinated.

By this time, the family had reached their royal carriage, the one that had brought them the day before to Herald's Crest. It was stationed outside the hotel they had slept at last night, complete with a small café where the footman and driver were now waiting for them.

"Did you have a good visit, your majesty?" The driver asked as he began to harness up the horses. The footman was checking the wheels to make sure they ran properly.

"Most eventful, if anything else," King Byron sighed. He had brought his boys to the slave market to show them that even though slaves in Arclight were treated humanely, the practice of owning other human beings was a crime against humanity. It had affected Chris deeply- the 14-year old had been very quiet throughout the whole thing. It had also upset Thomas, though he showed it in a different way. He had started lashing out, insulting and yelling at anything that came into his line of vision. It had been during one of these outbursts that Michael had disappeared. Both Byron and Chris had been trying to calm Thomas down, and when they had succeeded and turned to go they had suddenly realized that the youngest member of their party was missing. Poor Michael was a sensitive child and had probably gotten upset at his brother's anger, which must have been his motive to run. Their father decided he would have to talk to them about it later.

He was a little bit shocked at himself, purchasing two young girls at a slave market, but what else could he have done? He had outlawed child slavery; it didn't seem right to just leave them to their fate because of the strange circumstances surrounding their arrival. Besides, perhaps being in contact with two Barian girls would help teach his sons a thing or too.

Heartland and Baria had been a war for what felt like forever. Barians would lead raids on Heartland, stealing away men, women, and children for their slave markets, and then the Heartlandish countries would retaliate by attacking Baria. However, in the most recent decades, attacks from both continents had slowed down considerably. Emperor Kazuma had proposed the radical idea of making peace with Baria. Both Lord Faker of Tenjo and King Byron had though he was crazy. However, after getting to know his fellow monarch, Byron had come to respect him and see his point of view. However, despite all their talk of reform and peace, neither of them had ever met a Barian personally. That is, not until today.

Byron knew that his sons held prejudices about the "Barian heathens" in their hearts and minds, and he knew that he himself was not entirely free of these thoughts. Perhaps, getting to know Rio and Iris Kastle- who were undoubtedly Barians despite their Heartlandish names- would help to erase some of those prejudices that currently infected his family.

The carriage ride back to the royal palace took about half the day, and each boy had brought along books to read to keep themselves occupies on the journey to Herald's Crest, but on the return journey, the boys were far more interested in questioning the foreigners riding with them. They hadn't realized how different their two cultures were until Iris had asked them a rather odd question.

"Why do you ride around in a box on wheels?"

"It's called a carriage," Chris had answered. "How to you get around in Baria?"

"We use wagons, the same as the rest of the common folk," Rio answered quickly, before Iris could blurt out the truth. "But none of them are covered like this."

"Well then, if it rains, you get all wet," Thomas smirked. Rio narrowed her eyes at him. She had no doubt in her mind that he was _Quattro._ Quattro was a common nickname in Baria for middle children who had siblings of all the same gender. The middle brother in a group of three or the middle sister in a group of three was the most likely to cause trouble of the siblings. Quattro had since adopted a double meaning of 'middle' and 'troublemaker' as a result.

"If it rains," she said coolly, "We wear our cloaks and make the best of it. We are not afraid to travel in a storm." Thomas's face turned red at the underlying insult. Chris laughed at the look on his younger brother's face.

"She got you there, Thomas."

Thomas turned his rage in his older brother. "Why you-"

"Chris! Thomas! Please don't fight. I hate it when you do."

Rio smiled at the youngest of the siblings, lying down on the seat with his head in his father's lap. _Trey,_ she thought. Youngest children were often nicknamed Trey because of their tendency to be peacemakers. "Trey" was an older, obsolete word for _peace_ in the Barian language.

The older two brothers, unable to resist the request of their smallest brother, turned away from one another to stare out their windows, until Quinto turned back to Rio with another question.

"You said common folk use wagons," he said. "What do the members of the dignitary use?"

Rio stared at him blankly.

"He means," Thomas said, "How do the royals get around?"

"Oh! They use litters. There are strong servants who are given the great privilege of carrying the members of the royal family on their shoulders."

Thomas was incredulous. "Privilege? They call treating human beings as pack animals a _privilege?_ That's barbaric!" 

"More barbaric than riding around in a closed-up box so that no one can see you and you might very well die of lack of oxygen?" Rio shot back.

"That's enough!" King Byron said, and the absolute authority in his voice was enough to startle Rio into sitting up straighter. "There will be no talk of whose culture is more barbaric. You may discuss differences, but completely neutrally. I will not have a war breaking out in my own home. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, sure Dad," Thomas muttered, sitting back in his seat.

"Yes, your majesty," Rio said meekly. She had not imagined that such power could be portrayed by the Arclight King. He seemed to her at first a gentle old man, but hardly a ruler. However, she had been proven wrong. And in the days to come, she would find that the name she had given him in her head- the name that meant, as best as she could describe it in Heartlandish, _not looking like much, unassuming; but holding great power underneath the surface-_ was extremely accurate when it came to King Byron. He truly was _Vetrix._

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Representatives from five out of the Seven Barian Regions meet at Drachelm to discuss what should be done about Domitian's betrayal.**


	11. The Remaining Three

"I hope you understand son," Stalminus said, having just told Dumon that the other three Emperors were coming to Drachelm for a council of war, "That we are not calling this council just because we want to get revenge on Astrania for what they have done to our allies. A knight does not fight for revenge, but to make the injustices of the world right. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, father," Dumon said, sniffling. He had cried every day now for his lost friends for over one moon change. He would either be out in the fields with Mach or stay shut up in his room. But no matter how many tears he shed, the pain was still there.

After hearing the refugees' story, the King and Stalminus had wasted no time in summoning the other three Barian Emperors to a council of war. By betraying Ralphenom and the United Lands, Domitian had betrayed them all, and the four remaining loyal Emperors were not going to just stand by and let it happen. As the hosting Emperor's son, Dumon was allowed to attend, to observe how a meeting of the Seven Barian Emperors, even if it was incomplete, was carried out.

He entered the great hall wearing his finest white robes and quickly drifted over to his father, feeling shy and out of place in the room full of strange people.

"Don't look so nervous, son," Stalminus whispered. "Their bark is worse than their bite. Unless you're Domitian, of course." Dumon looked up at his father in time to catch a wink from him. The boy gave a half-hearted smile in return. He knew his father suffered when he saw him in so much grief. Stalminus himself had not seen much of Nash or Marin, and his relationship with the late Emperor and Empress had been strictly professional. However, he knew what it was like to lose a dear friend- he had lost more than one on the battlefield.

"Everyone!" Stalminus called out presently, gaining his three guests' attention, "I believe we are all ready to start. Please take your seats at the table." Dumon stayed close to his father as they sat down. He didn't want to end up between two of the foreboding and stern looking strangers that sat around the table.

"It seems to me," Prince Agrippa of Sparta said right away, "That we should fight this war as best we can; that is, everyone should do what they can do best. That is the best way to plan strategy." The Spartans were sportsman, through and through. From an early age, whether they lived in the capitol of Spartan City or in one of the surrounding villages, Spartan youngsters were trained how to box, wrestle, shoot with a bow, and fight with the sword. It was considered more honorable in Sparta to fight with your hands, but they had adopted weapons due to necessity. The champions in each village were sent to Spartan City to be trained as professional athletes, and most of them spent the rest of their lives fighting in the arena. The best of the best were often welcomed into the royal palace and given great rewards of wealth and attention.

The Prince himself (the Spartans had no King or Emperor) often competed in the annual games for the sport of it. Those who were not athletes enjoyed a long holiday at this time, taking a break from their normal work to go and view the spectacle.

This way of living had put Sparta at odds with Drachelm, who considered violence only as a means of last resort. It was only until recently, when the Seven Barian Emperor Treaty was signed, that they had stopped resenting each other quite so much.

"But, we must also remember," Hamatu of Widehan-yosae spoke up, "That Domitian is familiar with our strengths and weaknesses. It would be wise to also consider this when forming a battle plan. We must plan something that he will not expect." Hamatu's people were unmatched in battle. They had one of the best-trained armies in the world at their disposal. The leaders of Widehan-yosae were, in fact, the generals of this great military force. However, despite this truth, they were soft-spoken and lovers of nature and peace. Their soldiers were mostly employed as law-enforcers and peacemakers.

"These are both very good points," Chief Somatun said slowly, "But one question must be answered before we go ahead with making any plans for battle. Do we intend to attack Domitian's army, now stationed at Ralphenom's palace, directly and upfront? He far surpasses us, even with our combined forces, in troops, weapons, and artillery."

"Numbers do not win a war," Agrippa said.

"That may be true," Somatun returned, "But they affect our people greatly when it comes to casualties." The people of the Tachyon Mountains lived in small groups, usually connected by blood or marriage. They were travelers, going wherever it would be most convenient for them to pitch their tents for a while. Each group had its own chief, and Somatun had been elected above all the others to represent his people on the Imperial Council- because of his wisdom. Battles were not about strategy and victory for him. They were about _people._

This was a lesson he had learned, in his youth, from the great dragons that dwelled in the vast caves of the peaks of the Tachyon Mountains, far too high for any human to climb. The Dragons were the wisest of all creatures, because they lived long lives and saw what the foolishness of humans did to the world. So, they took it upon themselves to teach the humans about things they otherwise would never have understood or comprehended. As time went by, the people and the dragons of the Tachyon Mountains had formed special bonds. Often a dragon who had formed a friendship with a human in their youth would continue to look out for their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren long after their death.

Of course, no one must assume that all humans are fools or that all Dragons are wise. Somatun was respected by Dragons as well as people for his wisdom, and some Dragons, that we shall meet in future chapters, proved themselves to be quite stubborn and rash.

The meeting carried on as the four remaining Barian Emperors discussed strategies and who could best do what, but as Chief Somatun had already pointed out, they were hopelessly outmatched.

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Rio grows increasingly frustrated with the stifling culture of the Arclights… and with Quattro.**


	12. Suffocating

"Ahhhhhhh," Rio sighed in relief as the last lace was undone from her corset and it came sliding off. Rio found the Arclightian way of dressing absolutely despicable. When she had first arrived at the palace and been given her new attire, she had thought surely it was some sort of joke they were trying to play on the new girl. However, she soon discovered that all Arclight girls dressed this way and didn't complain about it.

First, Rio and Iris had been given a bath, a _proper_ bath; the first one they had had since the United Lands were attacked. Then, Mrs. Millis, the housekeeper, had brought them into a large room to be "fitted" as she called it. Being "fitted" meant standing very still while other servants measured you, dressed you in abominable clothing, and then jabbed you with a bunch of pins as they tried to make it fit just right. First had come underwear, and then some silky things that were called stockings had to be put on. Both sisters immediately hated the stockings. They itched and constricted your legs, trapping them in their tight wrapping. After that came the slip, and the corset. Rio had hung onto a bed post while the dress-fitting person had tightly laced up all the strings in the back of the portable jail. She admitted that it improved her posture and made her look more feminine, but still!

"Does it… have to be… this tight?" Rio had gasped.

"Of course it does. You want to look proper, don't you?"

 _Proper._ Everything in Arclight was about being proper in front of everybody else. There was a proper way to do everything- a proper way to bend over, a proper way to serve tea, (a drink Rio had never heard of until now), and a proper way to greet the royals, a proper way to make beds. It was exasperating.

For instance, the proper way for a female to dress, after the constrictions of the corset and the stockings, was in layers of petticoats, a blouse with a collar and cuffs that were to be buttoned up at all times, and finally a dress that was far too extravagant, in Rio's mind, to ever be practical. However, she soon discovered that it was far more practical than the layers of silk and lace that the rich ladies wore. It was a common, plain, dress, the kind that servants were supposed to wear. Rio was fine with simplicity… if only it had really been simple.

Shoes were another thing all together. They were boots that went up to your ankle, and they had buttons all the way from the toe to the top. You couldn't get your foot in or out of the shoe without undoing every single one of the tiny, infernal _buttons_ , and then you were stuck with redoing all of them.

Fortunately, Rio and Iris had only had to suffer through this a little while. Mrs. Millis had demanded to know why it took them so long to get ready in the morning, since all the other girls in the room they shared were present and ready to begin working before they were. Rio had informed her that the button-up shoes were foreign to her and her sister, and that they struggled with them every morning. After demonstrating their difficulties to her, they were soon given lace-up boots, and since Rio knew how to tie slipknots, these were far easier to manage.

The many layers and the closed-toed shoes were a huge hindrance to the Barian girls, who had always worn simple, elegant tunics and sandals before. Despite this, it would have been just sufferable if it hadn't been for the _heat_. It had been the middle of the hot rainy season when they had been brought to the Arclight royal palace- or, as they called it, the end of the month of July. Rio had been driven nearly mad by the suffocating temperatures and the humidity combined with her starched white collar and cuffs and her pointy shoes. It was such a relief to take them off at the rising of the moon, otherwise known as the end of the day.

Every morning, Rio, Iris, and the ten other girls they shared a room with would rise at the sound of a bell. They would dress themselves in all the infernal layers- Rio would help Iris to lace up her corset, keeping it lose so it wasn't so unbearable for the younger girl. Rio, however, had to receive help from Angelica, a young maid she assisted most days, and therefore her corset was always laced up as tightly as possible.

Iris was allowed to spend the entire day in the kitchen, since she was considered too young to do any real work. Rio, however, was kept on her toes all day, helping to keep the Arclight palace in tip-top shape. There were always drapes to clean, rugs to beat, dishes to wash, floors to scrub, beds to make, laundry to do, shopping trips to go on… the list was endless. Most of the large rooms Rio spent her days cleaning were not even _used_ by the royals.

"Why do they have all these extra bedrooms?" she had asked Angelica.

"For guests, of course."

"But there aren't any guests staying at the palace right now."

"No."

"So why do we have to clean these rooms so consistently?"

"To keep up appearances. Now stop asking so many questions. Children should be seen, not heard."

This was something else that bothered Rio. She was constantly being told that children should be seen and not heard. She didn't understand why on earth people would say something like that. Her father had always considered her and Nash's opinions valuable and they had been encouraged to speak their minds, whether in public or in private. Why were the Arclights so intent on _suppressing_ things?

They wore tones of clothing, the children were told to be quiet all the time, they rode around in closed boxes- they were obsessed with hiding things. There were no open windows in the Arclight palace as there had been in Rio's home castle. All of the windows were covered in a thick layer of glass, "to prevent people from getting in who shouldn't" she had been told when she'd asked. The Barian Princess had resisted the urge to say that, if as in Baria, the royal place had had wide balconies at all the places a thief or kidnapper might try to enter, guards could have stood watch there to dissuade them. But no, it was considered safer to cover the windows with glass, cutting off all fresh air.

To Rio, who had spent her entire life running free in the lush woods that surrounded her home, with bare legs and loose hair, this way of life was unbearably stifling.

It didn't help that she and Prince Thomas- or Quattro, as she called him, had been at odds with each other since the day she arrived there. He had not liked the fact that she had made a fool of him during their discussion in the carriage, and he now took every opportunity to pay her back for it.

One time, she had just finished scrubbing a floor, and had put her rag down with a sigh of relief, when he and a few other boys, sons of servants that he played with, had come dashing in, tramping mud and dirt all over her nice, clean floor. Rio had been furious, but she held her tongue. She doubted complaining would get her very far. Prince Thomas would just say he hadn't _known_ that the floor was freshly cleaned, and who would take a slave's side over that of a prince's anyway?

One time, Rio had retreated to the small room that she and Iris shared, looking forward to a long night's rest, only to find that all of her sheets and her pillow had been dumped on the floor. It had taken her an hour (according to the clock) to put the bed to rights, an hour of sleep that she would never get back. Other times Rio had found food in Quattro's laundry, which she would have to clean out by hand.

One day in particular, she had been beating a group of rugs outside of the palace, when her annoying rival had come sauntering around the corner and approached her.

"Hello, Rio," he had said nonchalantly. "Having fun with all your chores? I bet you're regretting asking my father for work by now."

"Not at all, your highness," she had said, turning to face him. "I'm glad I have something productive to do, rather than stay shut up inside your royal palace with no fresh air, idly biding my time all day."

His face had turned bright red at her insult, and in a rage, he had yanked down the carpet she was currently cleaning, thrown it onto the ground and stomped on it several times. Then he had dumped out the basket full of clean, folded rugs and carpets onto the ground and kicked them about for a bit.

"Whoops. Sorry. Guess you'll just have to clean them all over again, slave girl," he'd said haughtily, before turning his back and sauntering off.

"You're very mature, Quattro," Rio had muttered under her breath as she watched him go. It turned out to be a good thing that he had gotten her so riled up while she attended to that particular chore, though.

"You have a great deal of vigor in your young body, Rio," Angelica had said that evening. "They haven't been so clean in years!"

Based on these incidents, Rio knew that her first supposition about Quattro had been right- he was a trouble maker, and she was going to have to watch out for him. Not for the first time, Rio's heart ached for her brother. He would have put the arrogant middle prince in his place. He would have defended her honor. She hated to admit it, but she was helpless to defend herself, because she was exactly what Quattro had called her- a slave girl.

Rio watched every day for a chance to escape. She had decided that her best chance was to sneak out with a grocer or the milkman one morning after they made their delivery. However, she was going to need to know more about the routes they took after delivering to the palace in order to form her plan. She and Iris would hide in the wagon, but they would have to get out of it before the merchant came to his next delivery. At what point should they get out? Did the merchants take different route on different days? How was she going to get this information?

She also needed enough money to persuade someone to take her on board a ship and return her to Baria. The chances of finding a ship going in that direction would be slim, the chances of them taking two young girls aboard even slimmer. But she had to _try._ She had to survive in this suffocating environment long enough to make a solid, flaw-proof escape plan. As hard as it seemed, as many obstacles that stood in her way, _she would get back and help her brother._

Rio didn't know how she knew- from early childhood, she had had premonitions, or feelings, about things happening that she couldn't see- but somehow she was sure that her brother was in trouble, and that he needed her.

 _Hang on, Nash,_ she thought as she removed the rest of her suffocating clothing. _I will come back and save you from whatever trouble you're in. I promise._

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Shark is certain that he won't last much longer under his current circumstances, but then he is forced to witness an execution, and his circumstances suddenly change.**


	13. Stalminus

Hunger. That was all he could feel as he scrubbed the floor beneath him. He was _so hungry._ The moon had made five full changes since Shark had been captured, and he doubted if he would live to see another one.

He had no idea of what was going on outside the palace- Domitian never allowed him outside- but he knew that something was going on. Soldiers had been disappearing from the palace steadily ever since the second to last full moon, which brought him relief from the daily tormenting at their hands. Domitian, too, had also been assaulting him less, his mind seeming to be on other things.

Unfortunately, being thus ignored also turned out to be a very bad development. Domitian was the one who fed him, and for quite some time, he had been neglecting this job. Shark had been reduced to stealing his meals, something he very rarely got to do, since he rarely had an occasion to go down into the kitchens. The sun would rise and sink several times, and in all that time he would only have had water and a small loaf of bread, or perhaps a small, not quite ripe, piece of fruit.

Shark wondered what was happening, that the guards that usually lined the hallways had been missing for so long. Many divisions of Domitian's army had been sent to the other islands, Shark knew. Faced with countless deaths and suffering if they did not cooperate, Phelika, Alkon, and Lukka had signed Domitian's farce of a treaty and immediately been removed from office. However, surely Domitian did not need the majority of his army to control the other four islands, especially since Ralphenom was dead and they had no one else to lead them.

That left only one other explanation: the other soldiers had gone to war. But the question was _where_ this war was. It certainly wasn't in Heartland. Domitian wouldn't be stupid enough to take on an entire Empire by himself. No, he would try to scare the other Barian Regions into joining his insane plans. But the other Barian Emperors would not be frightened as easily as the Governors had been. They were more powerful, better equipped, and more likely to be able to stand against Astrania if it came to all-out war. In fact, when they found out about Domitian's treachery, they would most likely unite against him.

Shark hoped this was the case. He might be dead before they succeeded, but if they did, it would liberate his lands from Domitian's tyrannical rule and put his sister on the throne. He had no doubt that Domitian had not meant to keep his word about leaving his sisters alone. Oh, perhaps, he had called off any _serious_ searches for them, but if he _happened_ to catch the two princesses, he wasn't going to just let them walk away, either. This was Shark's greatest fear- that Marin and Iris would be captured and used as a way of further controlling him. He would to anything for his sisters, and Domitian knew it.

Shark sat back on his heels and wiped his dirty sleeve across his forehead. After the meeting with the governors- and Rabar's gruesome murder- he had once again been stripped of his royal garments and put in rags. They grew increasingly dirty and worn as each cycle of the sun passed.

More than once- especially during the moon's last change- he had contemplated giving up; just lying down and taking the rest which his aching limbs cried out for. But every time, just as he had almost made the decision to cave in, to collapse, to _just stop fighting_ and let Domitian beat him to death, the insane man's words always came back to him.

 _You don't get to die yet, Shark. You don't get to die yet._ Domitian was waiting for him to break, for him to look to death for his only way out, for him to beg his _master_ to end him. Well, Shark had always been rather stubborn, and he was not going to give Domitian to satisfaction of getting what he wanted. So, every time, he would hoist himself out of the black pit of despair and focus his mind on Marin, Iris, and Dumon.

While he scrubbed floors until his hands were raw, they ran free in the green meadows of Drachelm. Whenever Domitian beat him for the mere enjoyment of it, they were sitting together and reading their favorite books. And, when he shivered on the cold floor of Domitian's room, trying to ignore his crying empty stomach, they were warm and snug in their beds, having eaten their fill at the evening meal. Seeing their happy faced in his mind's eye was the only thing that kept him going.

Shark's vision blurred suddenly and he was forced to stop his work, sitting back for a moment and blinking to try and recover his vision. This was happening more and more as time went on. He suspected it was because he was so weak and exhausted from over-work and starvation. Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching and returned to his chore, hoping whoever it was would pass on by. No such luck.

Soon, the door to Domitian's room opened and in walked two guards- some of the few that remained in the palace. One was rather short and thin as a twig, with beady little eyes that seemed to peer out at you from behind a rock. Shark recognized the other as Barinek, the one whose arm he had nearly bitten off, or so the story among Domitian's men went. Because of that injury, Barinek was not fit for battle, and therefore the soldier despised the slave even more than he already had.

"Hey, slave boy," the small one sneered. "You're not done scrubbing his majesty's floor yet?"

"No, my lord," Shark muttered, not making eye contact.

"Well, WHY NOT!?"

"Because I'm slow, my lord," Shark said. If he'd said anything else, regardless of how true it might have been- "I'm exhausted from over-work and malnourishment, what did you expect?"- it would have been answered with a quick kick to his stomach and a report to the Emperor that he had been disrespectful, which would result in a harsh beating, probably in front of the other slaves and servants, to make an example out of and shame him.

Of course, Shark refused to say, "Because I'm lazy," which was what the guards wanted him to do. So, instead, he would usually answer "Because I'm slow." Considering his weakened state, it was technically true, and the guards took it as the same thing even if it wasn't.

"That's right, you're slow," the guard smirked. "Get up! Your master requires your presence." Even as he spoke, he marched over to where Shark was kneeling and grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet. "You were too slow again, slave," he tsked in response to Shark's cry of pain. "Barinek, bring him."

Grinning broadly, Barinek grabbed a fistful of Shark's hair in one hand and dragged him out the door after his younger companion. The boy hissed quietly in pain. It felt like Barinek was trying to pull his hair out.

"I still haven't forgotten how we met, Sharky," Barinek whispered in his ear. "I've been talking to his majesty about having all your teeth pulled out."

Shark didn't bother to point out that, since most of his teeth were of his first set, new ones would grow in by the time he was twelve or thirteen.

When they arrived at the throne room, Barinek threw Shark to the ground, finally releasing his hair, but causing him to cry out in pain yet again as his knees and palms hit the hard, marble floor.

"You see, Stalminus? Here he is, alive and well." Domitian's voice spoke.

 _Stalminus._ Shark didn't want to think about what the other Emperor's presence here might mean. Obviously it was not a demand that Domitian relinquish power or face destruction- or else the mad Emperor would have been more nervous about revealing Ralphenom's son in the condition he was in.

"Alive and _well_?" Stalminus's voice portrayed his outrage. "Nash! What has he done to you? Are you alright? How-" the Knight was cut off abruptly by a vicious blow from the guard that stood behind him. It wasn't enough to knock him out, just enough to stun him into silence. Stalminus had showed great disrespect towards Domitian by addressing his slave instead of himself in conversation. Whether or not Stalminus knew this and did it on purpose will remain a secret for all time.

"Did you hear that, slave?" Domitian asked coolly, pulling Shark to his feet in a similar manner to the way the young guard had. "The prisoner wishes to know about your welfare. Why don't you give him a full report?"

Shark knew that if he spoke one word of truth, he would be punished for it later? But how could he lie to an ally, especially the only ally he had seen in almost six new moons?

"I- I've been treated well enough," he said cautiously, hoping that would suffice. Domitian's grip on his arm tightened painfully. "I'm sure you can do better than that, boy."

Shark swallowed hard. He would have to lie more extravagantly. "My master has treated me very kindly, my lord." Nausea was added to his poignant hunger pains as he spoke, and he had to clench his fists to stop their trembling. Domitian relaxed his grip.

"You see, sir Knight? By his own admission, he has been treated not only well but kindly. And I did not even have to treat him in such a way, since he is my property."

"Your property!" Shark dared to glance up and saw that Stalminus's face was red with anger. "He is Crown Prince Nash, heir to Ralphenom's throne, unofficially Emperor Nash because his father is deceased. He is on an equal level with you, and you have no right to hold him as your slave!"

"Oh, but I do," laughed Domitian. "According to the customs of my people, young Shark here should have been executed as a member of the fallen royal family. However, he begged me to spare his life, promising that he would serve willingly as my slave in return. So you see, he _gave up_ his title as Emperor to become my slave, which is perfectly legal."

"Nash," Stalminus's voice sounded like he didn't want to believe what he was hearing. "How could you do such a thing? Hasn't your father taught you anything about the nature of slavery?"

 _I didn't do it!_ Nash thought, tears stinging his eyes. _I never gave up my title. I never begged for my life. I only said I'd become his slave if he let my sisters go!_ But how could he explain that to Stalminus without angering Domitian? And then suddenly he knew. It was risky, but it was the only way.

"I didn't do it for that reason, Stalminus. I did it so he would let my sisters get away. Did they make it to Drachelm safely? How is Dumon?"

"You! Slave, who gave you permission to speak? What did you say to him?" For, of course, Domitian spoke only Astranian and Barian. He saw the knowledge of "extra" languages as a waste of time- and what use did a war lord have for linguistics anyway?

Stalminus, however, had understood what Shark had said perfectly, because the boy had spoken to him in Dracht- his native language. Shark was fluent in Barian, his native Salkie, Astranian (because they were the United Lands' neighbor to the north), and Dracht (because Drachelm was their neighbor to the south), as well as Heartlandish. Ralphenom had intended to have his children instructed in all of the languages there were between the two continents, especially since he'd hoped Nash would take up his cause for peace one day.

"Answer me! What did you say to him, Shark?" It was Domitian's turn to be red with fury.

"I- I said that I w-was sorry th-that it had to b-b-be this way and I ask-asked ab-bout Dumon," Shark stammered, perhaps a little excessively in his attempts to convince his master.

"Why didn't you speak in Barian?"

"I d-don't know," Shark said helplessly. "I always used to sp-speak Dracht w-with-"

"Enough!" Domitian shouted at him. Shark cringed away at the volume of his voice

"I don't know what happened to your sisters, Nash," Stalminus said in Dracht, before quickly switching over to Barian. "Dumon is fine, other than believing that you are no more."

"What do you two think this is, a social gathering?" Domitian demanded. "It is time to get down to business. Stalminus, I have shown you that your precious _leader's_ son is still alive. No more will I entertain your gibberish. Bring me the block!" This last was directed to a soldier standing nearby, who quickly ran off to obey his Emperor.

Shark did not comprehend what these words meant. It didn't not register with him what was happening right before his eyes. All that he could focus on was that Stalminus did not know what had happened to his sisters. But he was supposed to know! Nash had sent Marin and Iris to him, to live under his protection. If Stalminus didn't know, it meant that the Princesses had either been captured by Domitian or had landed somewhere else in their boat.

Shark was pretty sure that Domitian would have told him if his sisters were also being held prisoner- he would have used it as a way to get him to cooperate with him. But then, what had happened to them? Where were they? What had he done by sending them off on their own?

"Do you understand what's happening here, Shark?" Domitian asked, gripping the boy's chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing him to look at what was going on. Stalminus, his wrists and ankles chained together, had been forced into his knees. His chin was resting on the execution block as the executioner prepared to do his grisly work.

"No," Shark said weakly.

"Oh, yes," Domitian laughed cruelly. "When they heard about your father and mother's death, those foolish other emperors thought that they could unite and stand against me. Well, now they will pay for the folly of their ways!"

The axe came down swiftly, and Stalminus's head was cut clean off. Shark wanted to shut his eyes against the blood gushing forward, but some kind of horrid fascination had glued his eyes to the spot. It didn't seem real. It didn't seem possible that a man he had just spoken with moments before was now dead.

Domitian forcefully turned Shark to face him. "Do you see now that you have no hope? Soon, all of Baria will be under my control. Resistance is futile. You had better hope that your precious sisters never come running back here to save you."

Domitian's words confirmed what Shark already knew- he had not secretly captured Marin and Iris. But they also revealed something else- Domitian was scared. Scared that Marin would come back with an army to rescue him. Scared that one time, his mighty army might be just unable to face their enemies. Shark raised his eyes and stared at his _master_ with defiance.

Domitian saw everything in Shark's eyes. Once again, the boy had seen right through him. "Take him to the dungeon!" Domitian screamed, just as Shark's unconscious form hit the floor. By Heartlandish time, it had been a week since he had had anything to eat.

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Shark meets and has a very important conversation with someone* in the dungeon.**

 ***The character will be an OC.**


	14. Lanu and Marya

The first thing Shark was aware of when he regained consciousness was that his head was lying on something soft. He attempted to shift around to find out what it was, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him.

"Don't move yet, child," an unfamiliar female voice said. "You're too weak to afford wasting any energy. Here, drink some water." A cup was placed at Shark's lips and some lukewarm liquid was tipped into his mouth. Greedily the boy began to gulp it down. "Not too fast, not too fast!" the woman's voice warned him.

When Shark had drunk his fill, she fed him some flat crackers that were very bland, but after not eating in so long, they tasted like the best gourmet cooking to the slave. Already he was regaining strength, and soon, with a little help from his benefactor, he was able to sit up and face her. She was a tall, slender woman, with skin slightly darker than his, and long, straight blue and indigo hair. Two sections of her hair had been separated from the rest of it by metal clasps, and they hung in front while the rest of her hair was pushed to the back.

"What's your name, child?" she asked gently.

"I'm called Shark," the boy answered.

"But that is not your name," the woman said. It wasn't a question.

"No." The two of them looked at each other for a while before the woman, realizing that she wasn't going to get his real name, introduced herself.

"I am called Lanu*, which is also my name," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Tell me, Shark, how does one as young as you end up in a place like this?"

Shark looked around at his surroundings as he pondered how to best answer her question. The dungeons were made of stone walls- over two decimeters thick. The metal bars that made up the doors and blocked the windows were constructed of solid iron.

In Ralphenom's day, the dungeon had rarely been used, but Shark could tell by the noises around him, quiet murmurings and sobbing, that it was full to the brim now.

"I am the Emperor's slave," he said at last. "I have displeased him, so he is punishing me."

Lanu stared at him, her face showing signs of horror and distress. Shark knew what she was thinking- that tomorrow morning he would be taken out and executed. Domitian already had a reputation for slaughtering those who "displeased" him. Although he felt bad for leaving her in anguish, he couldn't correct her assumption without explaining why Domitian was so determined to break him before sending him to his death.

"I'm not afraid to die," he said instead. "I have nothing to live for anyway." This was true. He had no idea what had become of his sisters now, his life was nothing but misery and suffering, and there was very little chance that the other Emperors would be able to defeat Domitian before he actually did break. What good would he be then, an heir to the throne who had broken under his enemy's torment?

"Nothing to live for!" Lanu exclaimed, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean you have lost all hope."

"I've lost everything," Shark said bitterly. "My family, my home, my freedom, my future- what is there left to hope for?"

"Yes," Lanu said quietly. "You have lost everything, if you have lost hope. You must continue to hope, Shark. Otherwise, your enemies will always triumph over you."

Shark stared at her, her words sinking in. _She's right,_ he thought. _As long as I have hope that things will somehow get better, Domitian can't take everything from me. He can't break me. Hasn't hope been the only thing keeping me going? Besides, just because Marin and Iris didn't land in Drachelm doesn't mean that they disappeared off the edge of the earth._ "Thank you, Lanu," he said. "I needed that."

She smiled at him. "I am glad you understand. There are so many who don't."

"Why are you here, Lanu?" Shark asked, propping himself up against the cool, stone wall. He still felt weak, despite the food and water she had given him.

The young woman sighed. "That, I wish I knew. You see, after the treacherous Astranian took hold of all of the islands, he-" she was interrupted suddenly by a noise from another corner of the cell. For the first time, Shark noticed the second form, a small person wrapped up in a bundle of cloth. Lanu quickly went to the child's aid, pulling back some the top blanket to reveal a young girl's face. It was almost identical to Lanu's, and her hair was styled in the same way. However, the top of her head was a mass of pink, and the long, silky hair that spread out around her was different shades of purple, from light lavender to dark violet.

"Shh, child," Lanu whispered, gently rubbing the girl's back. "It's all right. I'm here." The young woman continued to murmur reassurances to her look-alike, chasing whatever nightmare that had gripped the girl away. After a moment, the girl settled back down and returned to her deep sleep. Once she was sure the girl was sleeping peacefully, Lanu likewise returned to her position across from Shark. "My little sister, Marya*," she explained, then added quietly, "She's the reason I have to keep hanging on."

Shark nodded. "I understand." He understood more than he could ever tell.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, each contemplating their different situations and what they would- and might have to- do for their siblings. At last Lanu shook herself out of her thoughts and continued talking.

"I was telling you my story," she said. "Where was I? Oh, yes- the Astranian traitor has taken control of all five islands in the United Lands. My parents have been dead for some time, so Marya and I lived with my husband on Vairz. Well, when Governor Lukka was removed from office and the invaders took over, they imposed taxes- extremely high taxes- on all of the citizens."

Shark subconsciously clenched his fist in anger. Domitian had no right to treat his subjects this way! Wait a minute. _His_ subjects? Since when had he begun to think about the citizens of the United Lands of the Pacific Ocean like that?

"My husband refused to pay such outrageous amounts to an alien government. One day a patrol came to our house and demanded payment. When my husband refused, they-" Lanu stopped and covered her face with her hands. "I was so glad that Marya wasn't there to see it." Shark's mind flashed back to Rabar's murder, and how his first thought had been that he was relieved that his sisters had not been there to witness it.

"Anyway," Lanu continued, wiping her eyes, "After he was…dead; the soldiers took me and Marya and locked us up in a pen near the docks, along with many other young women. Some of their husbands were dead, some of them had lost their fathers, some of their families just couldn't stop them from being taken away. We were all herded on board a ship about one change of the moon ago and brought here. We've been kept in this dungeon ever since."

Shark ran through several scenarios in his head as to why Domitian would want to keep a bunch of young women locked up. None of his theories were very comforting, so he didn't share them.

"What about Marya?" he asked. "Were there a lot of young girls taken?"

Lanu shook her head. "No, they only took Marya because I refused to leave her behind. I couldn't leave her along on Vairz to fend for herself. She's only just turned eight several sun cycles ago."

"Thar makes her only a little bit younger than I am," Shark observed. "I turned eight almost six moon changes ago."

Lanu's smile was strained as she studied the boy in front of her. For the millionth time she wondered where people like the Astranian traitor were spawned. What kind of man was this Emperor Domitian, to sentence children no older than eight to slavery, and then to death?

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Rio and Quattro realize that they're not really all that different.**

 ***Both Lanu and Marya are based off of the character of Luna from the manga. Marya adopts Luna's coloring and her character (to a certain extent), while Lanu adopts her name, though the vowels are switched, because I can't stand the name Luna (no offense to Luna fans). The sisters will in fact be returning in Part 2 of my series.**


	15. Quattro

"Don't look so worried, Rio," Angelica said, adjusting the lacy cap on her head for the millionth time. "Servants must always be perfectly composed when serving royalty. Nervousness or giddiness is most improper."

 _Whatever,_ Rio thought.However, she didn't want the royal family to think they made her either nervous or giddy, so she took some deep breaths and plastered a smile on her face. When she'd first been told that today she would partake in serving the royal tea- because King Byron wanted to see her progress- she'd immediately balked at the idea. _Serving_ that arrogant, hot-headed Quattro was the last thing on earth she would ever like to do, especially in front of an audience. But, as usual, she had no choice.

"Serving at the royal tea is a great honor," Angelica had told her over and over again. _Honor._ It would bring Princess Marin no honor in her home country if her people knew that she had been reduced to serving the Arclight royals at their ridiculous tea ceremony. But that part of her identity had to remain hidden, just like everything else in this strange country. In a way, she wasn't all that different from them. The Barian princess grimaced at the thought.

The clothes Rio wore today were even fancier and more impractical than usual. She wore a pleated black dress, a pair of those confounded button-up shoes (lace-ups were considered inappropriate for such an occasion) as well as the matching lacy cap and apron. Rio had thought that the point of an apron was to wipe your hands on and protect your actual clothes from getting dirty. However, she'd been told that morning that _this_ apron was decorative, and that she had better not muss it up. It was perhaps the most ridiculous thing she'd heard since coming to this place.

"Well? How do I look?" Rio asked, turning around in a circle for Iris to see the entire outfit. The younger girl studied her seriously for a moment.

"It's different," she said at last, "but it looks good on you. It's just…"

"What?"

"It's very sad. It makes me think of-" Iris broke off, but Rio knew what she had been going to say. _It makes me think of Nash, too._ In the Barian Empire, black was worn only as a sign of mourning.

"I know," Rio sighed, sitting down next to her sister. "Now, while I'm gone, you stay here, do what Mrs. Millis tells you, and try not to get into trouble, okay?"

Iris nodded solemnly. Rio knew that these requests weren't necessary- Iris didn't do anything except what she was told, and she never caused trouble- but Rio didn't feel like leaving just yet. So she lingered, trying to delay the inevitable, and trying not to think of Nash. Every time she allowed her thoughts to drift to her twin, tears would burn her eyes, threatening to fall and smudge up her face, and goodness knows, _that_ would never do. Rio managed a smile as she thought of Angelica, insisting they follow all of the ridiculous rules of society.

Too soon, the young woman came to fetch her, reminding her that tardiness was not an attractive quality in young ladies, whatever their station in life, and absolutely unacceptable in servants about to present the royal tea.

Rio joined the line of servers as they selected things from the long table set up along the far wall of the tea room. Because it was now the cold season, or the month that the Arclights called November, the tea was being served indoors. During the warmer seasons, called spring and summer here, they took the tea outside in a pavilion.

Because she was so young, Rio had not been entrusted with the actual serving of the tea or the many platters of refreshments. Her job was to serve each of the royals their sugar. Tea, Rio had learned, was much like the Barians' coffee. It came from a plant that was brewed in hot water, creating a golden liquid. And, like Barian coffee, it was served with milk and sugar. Unlike coffee, tea would be brewed in many different ways, as there were many different tea plants, and different people liked to mix different things into the brewing. For instance, there was lemon tea, orange tea, and raspberry tea. Today, however, the royal would be served a traditional tea, with their choice amounts of milk and sugar.

These items were another thing all together. Milk in Arclight came from large animals called cows, which made a very amusing sound, called mooing. Iris had been given cow milk once, and had found it very distasteful. It was nothing like goat milk, which they drank in Baria. It was thin and bland; not at all like the thick, creamy milk the two sisters were accustomed to drinking. Sugar was also very different. Here, it was white and fine, not coarse and brown like Barian sugar. For the royal tea, it had been pressed into small cubes, and these cubes filled a decorative bowl that Rio now picked up, just the way Angelica had taught her, in one hand, delicately grasping the small, silver tongs that went with it in the other. Despite all the things that were impractical and ridiculous about Arclight, Rio had to admit that these sugar cubes were ingenious.

She fell into step behind the maid with the milk pitcher and approached the royal table with light steps, keeping her back straight. She served King Byron first, according to custom. "Sugar, sir?" She asked softly, keeping her eyes lowered.

"One, thank you," the King replied, and she could sense his approving gaze on her as she gently placed it in his tea cup. Next she served Crown Prince Christopher, whom she still had not given a Barian name; he also wanted only one.

The trouble started, as usual, when she came to Prince Thomas. "Sugar, sir?" she asked sweetly, determined not to show how much he succeeded in goading her.

"Three, thank you," he said, and though his face and tone remained polite, she could _hear_ the concealed smirk in his words. She dropped three cubes into his tea, one at a time, and then walked around his chair towards Prince Michael, whom she had dubbed Trey all those weeks ago. However, as she came back to the table from behind his chair, Quattro discreetly stuck out his foot and she tripped, spilling sugar everywhere.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Trey cried as he was pelted with sugar cubes. Frantically, Rio tried to regain her balance, her face red with embarrassment and anger. When she was flat on her feet once again, she whirled to face her adversary, who by now had hidden his foot under the table.

"You…you…Quattro! That's what you are! You're nothing but a rude, troublemaking little boy!" She yelled at him. Tears threatening to fall for the second time that day, she turned and fled the room, anger, humiliation and resentment driving her on until she reached the room she shared with Iris and some others. Slamming the door behind her and locking it, she threw herself on her cot and sobbed, the full helplessness of her situation overwhelming her.

For the first time in her life, Rio Kastle felt utterly alone.

"Rio, please let me in!" Iris cried through the door.

"Go away!" her sister's voice returned. "I don't want to see anybody ever again!"

"But, Rio…" Iris wanted Nash. He would have known what to do. But Iris was clueless. Always it had been Rio who would comfort her and Nash who would comfort the both of them. He was the big, older brother and had never needed comfort from them, as far as Iris knew. "Rio, it would probably help you to talk about it," she tried again.

"Nothing will help now," Rio sobbed. She was so caught up in her hysterics that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps or the low murmur of voices outside her door. She did, however, hear the loud knocking a moment later. "I'm not going to open the door, Iris."

"It's, uh… not Iris," a familiar voice said.

 _Quattro! What's_ he _doing here?_

She leapt up from her cot and flew at the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open, not caring that her clothes were wrinkled or her face red and blotchy or her cap askew. "What do you want?" she demanded, scowling at him.

"I came down here to apologize, not only for what happened upstairs, but…for everything."

Her scowl faded and she stared at him, mystified. "What?"

"I've been talking with my Dad, and he said-"

"Oh, so it was your _father's_ idea," Rio huffed. "Sorry, but I'm not impressed by fake and forced apologies." She was about to slam the door in his face when he somehow managed to wedge himself in between it and the door frame.

"Please, Ri- Miss Kastle, just hear me out."

 _Miss Kastle? What's he playing at here?_ Considering her options, Rio decided that letting him talk to her could do more no more harm than had already been done, so she opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come on in," She sighed.

"Come into the female servants' quarters? Are you insane?"

"Oh, forgive me, _your highness,_ I should have realized you were too high and mighty to come into our room."

"No, it's just… I'm a _boy_. Can you imagine what people would think if they found out their Prince had spent time in the _female_ servants' quarters without a chaperone?"

"You're only nine."

"True, but I won't be forever."

Rio considered this. She understood what he was saying, though she'd never thought about such things before in her life. "Oh, well, I'll come out here then," she decided, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind her.

"Let's go over to the window seat," Thomas suggested. "That way we don't have to stand." Shaking her head at this statement- _he must be planning to talk a long time_ \- Rio followed him to end of the hall, sat next to him on the window seat, and waited for him to begin talking.

It was a long time coming. First he stared up at the ceiling; then he looked at the floor. Then he looked back up at the ceiling. Finally, he began, "I'm sorry I tripped you. Really, I am. I wasn't planning on tripping you the whole time, either. It was just, you were so confident in helping to serve the tea, and the way you were smiling, as if everything in the world was perfect, and nothing could touch you, well... It made me angry. Especially after everything I'd done to mess things up for you."

"That's what I don't understand," Rio interrupted. "Was it because of those things I said to you in the carriage?"

"Yes," Prince Thomas said, "And no. You see, I've always despised you Barians because… because some of you killed my mother."

"What?" Rio was stunned. She had never imagined that Quattro's resentment came from such a tragic event in his young life.

"Your people, they have always led raids on us- and, to be fair, we have always led raids on you- but one time they somehow got into the palace. I was only three, and Michael had just been born. Those Barians came after us while we were sleeping. My mother was coming to get us, to take us to safety. When she got there, she found the intruders preparing to kill us, so she grabbed a fire poker and attacked them."

King Byron's second son smiled a little at this, imagining his mother bravely attacking two Barian invaders with nothing but a fire poker. "Dad always says that he would have expected nothing less from his feisty Rosetta. She was a graceful queen, a leader to all society, but she had that spark of independence in her, too. Dad says that that's what made him love her the most."

The boy fell silent for a moment, and Rio allowed him to reminisce, her thoughts drifting to her own mother, Empress Toria. Had she been killed trying to get to her and Nash, to warn them? Rio didn't know how she knew her parents were dead, she just… _knew._ It was the same kind of premonition she had about Nash. She just _knew_ he was in trouble and needed her help.

"You're a lot like I imagine my mother would have been," Prince Thomas said suddenly. "Independent, feisty, bold, and beautiful."

 _He thinks I'm independent, feisty, bold, and beautiful?_ Rio thought, blushing slightly at the compliment.

"I suppose that was the hardest part for me," Thomas continued. "You- a member of the race I had despised with all my heart, ever since I had been old enough to understand what happened- were the walking, living, breathing version of the image I had created in my head of my mother. That image was all I had. Because those two men took her from us, I never got to know her at all. Neither did Michael. For that, I decided I hated your people, all of them- including you."

"And so you decided to take out your resentment on us," Rio said quietly. Quattro nodded.

"Yes. My father warned me not to see you as enemies, because it was six years ago, and you would have been only two years old."

"And Iris wouldn't even have been born yet," Rio laughed. Her laughter was a bit forced, however, as she tried to puzzle the facts out. Six years ago would have been right at the end of the Barians' raids on the Heartlanders. Emperor Ralphenom had decided they would slow their attacks down, not abruptly stop them, to five everyone time to adjust. He had also said that nothing was to be taken except the best of slaves and extra gold or jewels that the barbarians obviously didn't need. No more snatching up whatever was lying around anymore. So, why on earth had anyone been inside the royal palace, plotting to kill the younger two princes?

If Rio could have her guess, she would have said Domitian, Empress Vivian's husband. He was known to push the limits of the Imperial Council's decisions and to be a lover of violence. However, the Imperial Council could not outlaw the death penalty or torture in the entire Empire because they proved to be effective. But killing a woman because she was defending her children! Rio could not imagine anyone sinking so low.

"I am sure that those two men did not have orders from the Imperial Council to do such a thing," Rio told the boy beside her. "My people are not cruel. They do not take pleasure in killing, as a general rule." _Of course, to a rule there are always exceptions._

"I know that now. Man, I feel like a jerk." The two of them sat in silence for a while, each alone with their own thoughts. Then, without any warning, Quattro started the conversation up again. "Is that what you called me?"

"Huh?"

"Did you call me a jerk? Does 'Quattro' mean 'jerk' in your language?"

"Oh, no." Rio shook her head. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. Insulting you in front of all those people."

"Oh, that's okay. I got what I deserved. So, what does it mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"You _know_ what."

Rio giggled at the annoyance on his face. "Oh, _that._ Quattro means 'middle child' or 'troublemaker.'" Seeing his puzzled expression, Rio launched into an explanation regarding the Barian theory behind families with three siblings that were all the same gender. Before she knew it, she was telling him about the third child, and how they were often the peace makers, and how she had observed Michael in this role and had therefore taken to calling him Trey.

"Wow," he said when she was finished. "You know that's pretty accurate? Dad's always saying that I cause him more problems than Chris and Michael put together. It's true, too. I've been told I inherited my mother's rambunctious spirit." His eyes misted over for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Michael's always trying to keep the peace, just like you said. He always buts in whenever Chris and I are fighting. So what do you call him?"

"Christopher?"

"Yeah."

"Actually, I haven't come up with a name for him yet," Rio admitted.

"You wouldn't happen to have a name in Baria that means pushy, over-bearing, know-it-all, and boring, do you?"

She laughed. "He sounds like a typical older brother to me," She said, feeling a small twinge of guilt as she thought of Nash. "There is a name that might work- though it comes from an ancient, obsolete Barian dialect. It means 'older brother,' but it has a negative connotation, implying all those things you just mentioned."

"Sounds perfect," Quattro grinned. "What is it?"

"Quinton."

"Quinton," the boy said slowly, trying to wrap his mouth around the foreign word. "I'm going to pull that one on him the next time he annoys me." The two of them collapsed into giggles, imagining collected, impassive Chris's face twisting into confusion at the insult. Unfortunately, their merriment was interrupted by Iris, whom Quattro had sent back to the kitchen when he'd arrived at Rio's room and discovered her standing outside the locked door.

"You had better come quickly, Rio," She said, not showing any confusion about her sister being so friendly with the boy she had insulted earlier that afternoon. "Angelica is very angry with you."

"Don't worry about Angelica," Quattro said, waving her concern away. "I'll tell her the tea wasn't ruined by Rio's annoyance with me."

"It's not that," Iris said. "Rio, you shut the door to our room and accidently locked us all out."

"Oh."

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Fearing that Shark will be discovered by the remaining united Emperors, Domitian puts him on board a ship for Astrania, along with someone else*…**

 ***Not an OC**


	16. Change of Location

Shark grunted in pain as his head hit the side of the wagon for the tenth time. The back road they were using to transport him was full of rocks and ditches that the wagon kept bouncing over, jostling its occupants. It wasn't that much of a problem for the guards, who had hands to steady themselves with, but it was hazardous for Shark. As he had been since the sun went down that evening, the boy was bound hand and foot with strong Astranian rope. Much more care had been taken in binding him this night than when he'd first been captured- his hands were crossed behind his back and there was rope wrapped around his torso to keep him from moving his arms. Both his ankles and knees had been tied tightly together, the rope looping around each leg and in between them several times. As if that weren't enough, a wad of cloth had been pushed inside his mouth and a black scarf wrapped around his head several times to keep any noise he made down to a barely audible muffled grunt. In a similar manner, another scarf had been placed over his eyes and likewise securely fastened behind his head, keeping him in total darkness.

All of this had been done earlier, when the moon had not yet appeared in the sky. But to explain everything that happened to Shark since his night in the dungeon, we must go back what the Heartlanders would call a week.

Before sunrise that morning, two of Domitian's personal guards had come to the dungeon and taken Shark from his cell. Lanu had been up at the time, watching the two children sleep. She had waved goodbye to him, telling him to "keep his chin up." Lanu would always believe that Shark had been executed that morning along with many other unfortunate souls. She didn't live long enough to find out the truth.

Shark had actually been taken to an inner room of the palace, one without windows, and been kept there under lock and key. During that time he had been fed nourishing food regularly and had not met abuse at anyone's hands. These facts alone had made him suspicious. Then, just this morning, he had been given the opportunity to bathe again. Remembering his last bath, Shark had begun to fear that Domitian had somehow conquered all of Baria and that he was going to hold another victory party, at which the remaining three Emperors would be forced to sign a similar treaty that the island governors had been.

After bathing, Shark was not given, as he expected, some of his own royal clothes, just a new set of rags very similar to his old ones, though they were thicker, warmer, more gray than brown, as well as much cleaner and in better condition. He hoped this meant that his theory was wrong, and he wouldn't be put on a leash and forced to lie to his father's allies again. He had spent the rest of the sun's passes in the sky trying to prepare himself for whatever Domitian was planning, reinforcing his old vow to himself that he would show no weakness in front of his enemies.

Shark nerves had been on edge when, as soon as darkness fell, the two guards who had brought him out of the dungeon had entered his room and proceeded to bind him securely. Seeing little point, Shark had not resisted, though it had been very difficult as they were very rough with him, treating him like what he was- property. He had no rights, no voice to say "ow!" when they yanked the cords tight that might be heard.

After being bound he had been left alone again, having only his ears to tell him what was going on. He had heard people moving about outside his room; heard them talking to each other, but no matter how hard he strained, he couldn't make out their words.

Finally, someone had once again entered the room and placed a sack over Shark's head before picking him and throwing him across their shoulder. Because he was already blindfolded, Shark had wondered what the point of this was. He had gotten his answer when he had felt the biting night air of the cool season against his bare feet and realized that he was being taken outside the palace for the first time in many moons. With both the blindfold and the sack on, Shark couldn't see a thing, and it was dark outside anyway, but the sack covering his head prevented anybody _else_ from seeing _him_. Domitian didn't want anyone to know that Crown Prince Nash was being moved out of the palace.

Only moments later, the screaming had begun. Shark had nearly thrown up at the realization that anyone in the palace who had known his true identity, guards and servants alike, was at that moment being put to death.

No one knew why the Emperor had given all these orders. No one had heard the conversation between him and Heartland the night of Stalminus's death.

" _The enemy is getting closer and closer every day, and I can't focus as well as I need to with that arrogant royal brat constantly reminding me that for one moment I was merciful! He might pretend to have given up and given in, but his eyes always tell a different story. I can't stand him anymore, Heartland!"_

" _Your Highness, perhaps if you cannot stand the boy, you should simply get rid of him."_

" _Never! I won't kill him until he has broken, begged me to end him, and then realized the fruitlessness of such petitions!"_

" _There is more than one way to get rid of someone, Majesty. I was not referring to execution. As you have said, the enemy is getting closer and closer each day. It would be most… unfortunate if they were somehow to discover and rescue him. The news that Ralphenom's son was alive and had joined with the remaining emperors would cause all the conquered islands to rise up against you."_

" _I know all of this! What the devil do you suggest I do about it?"_

" _Send the boy to Astrania."_

" _What? Are you mad?"_

" _No, quite far from it. So far the other Emperors have made no move against your own country. Their only motive is to remove you from Ralphenom's lands. If the boy is in Astrania, he will have less chances of escape, and you will no longer have to deal with him."_

" _That is all well and good, Heartland, but what do you suggest I do with him there? Throw him in the dungeon until I have conquered all of Baria? Even you can see how impractical that is. Besides, I cannot have my wife finding out about him. I have no doubt she would try to smuggle him to the other Emperors in my absence."_

" _You own extensive plantations and many slaves to work them do you not? Send the boy to work in your fields. Who will notice one more slave among thousands? The hard labor will soon wear him down."_

" _I'm beginning to remember why I like you, Heartland."_

With that, Shark's fate had been sealed. Domitian had immediately begun preparations to put his plan in motion. Quickly he had entrusted one of his most loyal naval officers with the task of moving Shark to Astrania. The man had been told that the boy was a rebellious slave who was being sent to the fields to learn how good he had it. Domitian also used the chance to complete many other tasks he had been neglecting; such tasks that would remove suspicion. Some of his incompetent soldiers were put on the voyage to be taken to the fields themselves, only as guards and overseers. Many treasures that he had found and desired for his own castle were also put on board.

All of this had taken the past seven sun cycles to complete. As Domitian was taking no chances with Shark's identity being discovered, he had waited until the night the ship was scheduled to sail to have him put on board.

To that ship, the _Warlord,_ was where the guards were taking Shark now. He, of course, had no way of knowing this. All he knew was how uncomfortable he was and that he could no lo0ner feel his hands or feet. He also desperately wanted to get the gag off. It hadn't been that bad at first- much more comfortable than the leather strap that had been forced into his mouth all that time ago- but the large amount of cloth in his mouth had dried it out and he was desperate for a drink. Moving slowly, hoping to avoid notice, Shark tried to move the rope on his wrists to a less tender place. His concentration was broken so frequently by the jostling wagon that he gave up.

After what seemed like an eternity, the wagon creaked to a stop. Shark was once again thrown over someone's shoulder and carried to wherever they were going. He could feel that they were traveling upward at one point, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of feet on wood. Following this was a loud clanging, like metal striking metal. Finally, Shark was lowered to the ground- definitely made of wood- and the sack was removed. Just that one release felt amazing. Shark breathed deeply, savoring the fresh air that was no longer stifled by any obstructions. He recognized instantly the salt air, and joy roe inside of him. He was by the ocean! The lovely, roaring, powerful _free_ ocean!

Just as quickly his heart sank down into his toes. He knew now what the wooden floor was- it was the deck of a ship. The upward walking had been climbing the gangplank. He was being taken away from his homeland, from the only place he had ever lived.

"Should we untie him?" A voice above him asked.

"No, we'll let the Captain untie him after they're out to sea." Once again there came the clanging sound, followed by the click of a key in a lock, and retreating footsteps.

Shark wanted to lash out at those guards. He wanted to scream and kick and attack the people who made his life miserable. But there was nothing he could do. He was bound, gagged, and locked in the brig (he guessed) of an Astranian ship. Was there to be no deliverance for him?

"Hey! Hey, kid, wake up." Shark stirred a little bit at the voice, but when he was about to open his eyes, the movement of the ship reminded him of where he was and he squeezed them tighter, not wanting to wake up in the nightmare that was his life. After shifting about for quite some time, he had finally managed to get a little comfortable and fall asleep after he'd been left alone. Sleep was his only comfort.

"Maybe I should untie him first and then- no; the General would have called that stupid," the voice came again. "Come on, kid, show me you're alive and I'll get you out of this." Shark considered his options. He desperately wanted to be free of his bonds, but he didn't want to face reality, either. Eventually, his physical needs won over his intellectual, and he tried to sit up. His muscles were so sore and stiff that he fell back against the deck, groaning in pain.

"Hang on, just hold still," the voice came again, this time full of concern and almost panic. The person, whom Shark was going to guess was young, removed the blindfold first, pulling and tugging at the knot until it loosened. Freed from the darkness, Shark tried to study his rescuer, who was now removing the gag, but found it impossible in the harsh sunlight. Once the gag was removed, Shark immediately licked his lips and tried to moisten his dry mouth. "I'll get you some water in a second," the boy kneeling over him said, beginning to work on his hands.

Soon Shark's eyes adjusted to the sunlight and he could make out a tall, willowy form, with lanky limbs and a narrow face. His hair was red and slicked back, (This was a popular Astranian style. Shark's people preferred to let their hair hang naturally.), except for one piece that stubbornly refused to stay in place. Despite the fact that he was tall, Shark guessed that the boy was only a few rains older than himself.

After consistent labor on the older boy's part, Shark was finally free from his bonds. Slowly, and not without help, he managed to sit up and stretch, before settling down in a comfortable position with his back against the back wall of the brig.

"Wait here," the boy said. "I'll go and get you some water." Hastily, he scrambled to his feet and hurried off towards the water barrel, leaving the door to the brig wide open. Getting a better view of him in the sunlight, Shark saw that the boy was dressed as a soldier, except he wore none of the armor that the guards in the palace had. _What's a boy his age doing in the army?_ Shark wondered.

"Weasel!" A loud voice boomed, causing Shark to jump and give a painful jolt to his sore muscles. "Did your commander teach you nothing? Is it army procedure now to leave a dangerous prisoner unbound and free to walk about as he pleases? You did not even lock him in! What kind of fool are you?"

"I- I was just getting him some water, sir," Weasel stammered, standing straight as a rod. "I wasn't going to be gone very long and I didn't think-"

"That's right, you didn't think! Remember never to leave the door unlocked or the prisoner unfettered in the future."

"Yes sir!" Weasel saluted. Quickly he returned to Shark with the cup of water. "You know, you really don't look that dangerous to me," he said as the younger boy gulped down the water. "What'd you do to end up being sent to the fields?"

"The fields?" Shark asked.

"Uh huh. They're sending you to work on the Emperor's personal plantations. Didn't you know?" Slowly, Shark shook his head. "Oh. Sorry I had to be the one to break it to you."

"That's alright."

"I'm also sorry about this," Weasel said, picking up an iron fetter that was lying in the corner. "But orders are orders." Shark nodded in understanding before holding out his wrists to be clapped in irons.

Fetters were different than chains. Each cuff had a long iron rod protruding from it, and the rods were linked together in the middle. This limited movement considerably. Also, fetters were not meant to be worn while going somewhere. They were made of solid, thick, iron, and wearing them on both his wrists and ankles weighed Shark down so much he couldn't do much but lie flat and still in the brig as the sun and moon passed over him. It took almost all of his strength just to lift a cup of water to his lips.

Weasel was in charge of bringing him his food and water. The two boys spent a lot of time together, and though Shark would never had believed that he could become friends with an Astranian soldier, he soon found that he had.

"Weasel, I don't mean to pry, but how exactly… I mean, what are you doing here? Aren't you sort of young to be a soldier?"

"Yep," Weasel nodded as he sat outside the brig, snapping peas. Even the Captain of the ship didn't recognize Weasel as a man, treating him more like a cabin boy. "I've only seen eleven rains come and go. But I'm the man of my family, and that means I need to earn a living. When I was only nine, my father died of malaria." He paused and shuddered in horror of the tropical disease that plagued citizens of Astrania, the United Lands, and Drachelm alike. "My mother weaves baskets, but it wasn't enough to support both of us. So, when I heard that Emperor Domitian was taking boys as young as ten in the army, for half the wages of a full soldier, I took the chance. There wasn't a lot of job opportunity in my home village."

Shark grimaced. Undoubtedly, Domitian wanted to have as large an army as possible for his attack on the United Lands.

"I've spent the past few seasons training," Weasel continued. "But eventually my commander decided I was incompetent for battle. So, I'm being sent back to Astrania to guard the field slaves."

Shark didn't want to think about what the harsh realities of slave guarding would do to his friend. Most likely, "incompetent" soldiers were sent to the fields to harden them, to make them accustomed to brutality, and even to make them enjoy the absolute power that came with owning slaves. Having tasted it, they would show no mercy on the battlefield, determined to dominate everyone who opposed them. Shark's father had taught him from an early age that power was a privilege, not a right, and that one could easily become addicted to it.

"What about your name?" Shark asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Your name. Weasel. That isn't your real name, is it?"

Weasel sighed. "No, but all the other soldiers called me that because I was smaller than the rest of them and incapable of doing anything right."

"Obviously they don't know what a weasel is," Shark mused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Weasels are clever and cunning. They're experts at stealing and getting away with things. That's why people say, 'you won't be able to weasel your way out of this one.'"

"Really?" Weasel's face brightened. "I didn't know that. I just thought that weasels were small, useless rodents." At that moment, Weasel was called away, and he scurried off with his bowl of snapped peas.

Thinking about the conversation later, Shark realized that he had never actually learned Weasel's real name. He decided he wouldn't ask him. After all, if Weasel ever asked Shark what his real name was, he wouldn't be able to tell him.

The journey north to Astrania took only about one moon to complete. Shark first saw the land where the invaders of his home had come from early one morning, when he was awoken by the call of "Land in sight!" Weasel hurried to the brig where Shark was kept and unlocked the door.

"Come and see, Shark!" Weasel said, beaming. "Astrania is in sight. We'll be there by tomorrow evening." Shark was no longer kept in irons, because the Captian had discovered that the "rebellious slave" was not as dangerous as he had been led to believe. Slowly he rose to his feet and followed his friend to the ship's rail, from which he could see the black outline of Astrania. A thick fog hung over it, making it look foreboding and dangerous.

Seeing the look on Shark's face, Weasel tried to reassure him. "It's not that scary-looking up close," he said. "It's actually quite pretty, I think." He let out a long sigh of contentment. "I'm almost home," he whispered.

Shark was anything but content. As he gazed at Astrania, where he was to be a field slave, worked nearly to death for the profit of another, dread settled over him. _Weasel is home,_ he thought, _but I am not._

He would never have believed that his journey from this place would be filled with more sorrow than his arrival had been.

 **Next time on** _ **A Tale of Two Slaves:**_ **Shark's and Weasel's lives in the fields.**


	17. Field Life

"You will sleep here, in Barracks 17," Wolfsbane said. "I don't care which bunk you sleep on, as long as you're here every morning and every evening. There are fifty slaves now, in Barracks 17, and there had better be fifty slaves every morning and ever night, or else somebody will get hurt.

Shark nodded, showing that he understood. It was early evening in Astrania, and the sun was just beginning to set over the sugarcane fields, yet the slaves Shark had seen were all still hard at work. When they had first arrived here, Weasel had been whisked away to learn how to be a guard on a plantation, and Shark had been entrusted to Wolfsbane, an overseer, who was now instructing him in the routine of the third sugarcane field.

All of Domitian's plantations were huge, having to be divided into different sections so things were easier to keep track of. The third sugarcane field was the furthest west on the sugarcane plantation- the furthest field from either coast. Wolfsbane had made a point of telling him this, apparently hoping to discourage any attempts at escape. He needn't have worried. Shark had given his word that he would not attempt to run away, and unlike his "Master," he was a man of his word.

Weasel had been right about their arrival time in Astrania- it had been a moon cycle and almost a sun cycle ago, the evening before this one. They had spent the night in the city, before setting out the next morning for the plantations. Once again, Shark had found himself tied up in the back of a wagon, but this time in had been much more bearable. Only his hands had been tied, in front of him, and the rope had not been pulled nearly as tight as it had been before, both huge reliefs.

Weasel had talked to him the whole way, pointing out various streams, roads, and trees. Astrania was different from the United Lands- their trees were smaller, their streams had more rocks in them, streets were far narrower and cities more crowded, but despite this, it was a nice place, Shark had to admit. It certainly wasn't the place of black despair he had imagined. He had seen several groups of children laughing and playing in the streams. It cheered Shark to know that, although his lot was miserable, not everyone's was.

The trip to the sugarcane plantation had taken up the majority of the sun's passes in the sky. Shark had been told that he would not start work until tomorrow morning. Instead, he was now being shown the barracks where he would sleep- a large, wooden building that was very long and lined with three levels of shelves. It was on these so-called "bunks" that he and the other slaves would spend their nights. As they slept, Wolfsbane told him, the slaves' ankles would be chained together, to ensure that no one escaped at night.

"We overseers like to get our sleep, too," he had said. Now, they left the barracks and started walking across the fields on one of the narrow paths that had been created for this purpose. "The tasks you'll be assigned will depend on the season," Wolfsbane continued. "During the rainy seasons, the sugarcane is growing. It will be your job to weed the fields, make sure the plants are getting enough water- they need at least 60 centimeters annually to grow well- and collect and exterminate the many pests that like to feed on his majesty' crops. If any plants in your area die from vermin feeding on them, lack of water, chocking by weeds- you will take the blame and the punishment for it."

Shark grimaced. He had no doubt that punishments here were beatings delivered by cruel guards.

"Sugarcane takes almost eight moon changes to grow fully, so these tasks will take up the majority of your time. However, when the dry season starts, the sugar is ready to be harvested. You will be expected to harvest up to 50,000 kilograms of sugarcane while the sun is in the sky. Failure will lead to punishment."

 _50,000 kilograms, all in one sun cycle!_ Shark felt tired just thinking about it. But slaves had been harvesting sugarcane for many comings and goings of the rains. Surely this demand was not as unreasonable as it sounded.

It took a while to get to the opposite side of the field, since it was so large, but when they finally did reach it, Shark saw many wooden buildings, slightly smaller versions of the barracks, lined up next to each other as far as the eye could see. "These are the boiling houses," Wolfsbane said, pushing open the door to one and dragging Shark inside. _Boiling_ house was right. It was unbearably hot inside. Slaves were hard at work, some stirring huge kettles of boiling sugar cane juice, others skimming and stirring the sugar in smaller kettles, some shoveling raw sugar into large wooden barrels, which were then taken out a back door by yet more slaves.

"This work keeps everybody occupied during the cold dry season," Wolfsbane said. "We make more sugar than the either of the other two fields annually. I expect this fact to remain true, so you'd better pull your weight, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Shark said, his face turning red from the heat.

Wolfsbane studied him for a moment. "I think I'll put you in the curing house," he said at last. "You'll be useful for curing the sugar and packing it." Shark hoped the curing house wasn't as hot as the boiling house.

Their last stop was the supply shack. "We keep extra kettles in here, as well as the nets for gathering bugs and the can knives when they're not in use. I've brought you here to get you some shoes."

"Shoes?" Shark was surprised. He had figured he'd go barefoot in the fields, just as he had as Domitian's personal slave.

"Yes. I don't know how you lost your last pair, but if you lose these, you won't get another pair until the next cold dry season. Ah, here we are." Wolfsbane pulled out a pair of sandals from a dusty crate. "These should fit you." The sandals were poorly made, constructed out of woven grasses and poor quality leather, but they were still shoes. Shark hadn't worn shoes since being captured. They were different from his old royal sandals in that they weren't slip-ons or ones with buckles. Instead, you had to pull the top strings of the shoe tight around your ankle, wrap them around once, and then tie them to keep them in place.

Shark eventually figured out that the clever style had originated in Astrania.

That night, returning to Barracks 17, he received several curious stares from the other slaves, but, to his relief, none of them were hostile. He soon made many friends among the slaves in the third sugarcane field. In the curing house, he would sit for long stretches of time and wash, shift through, and comb through the sugar, trying to purify it. Pure sugar was put into block molds,a nd each mold was wrapped up in brown paper.

While they worked, the slaves talked to one another about various things. Shark was the main topic of conversation for the first few sun cycles, since he was a newcomer. Pressured to tell his back story, Shark had to elaborate on the story he had told Lanu.

"I was born into slavery," he would say when asked. "My first masters gave me as a gift to the Emperor to pay off some debts they had. I've been his personal slave ever since." This led to looks of sympathy and confusion every time he said it. If he was Emperor Domitian's personal slave, what was he doing in the fields, they would ask. "I made my master angry, so he's punishing me," would be Shark's answer. This story satisfied most of his companions, much to his relief.

After talking to them, he had discovered that many of the field slaves had either been captured on raids to Heartland or born to such parents, though some of them were Astranians from Domitian's dungeons. How would these Heartlanders, taken away from their homes and forced into lifelong servitude, have reacted if they knew he was the son of the leader of the Seven Barian Emperors? At the very least, they would shun him, and after gaining their companionship, Shark didn't think he could have born that.

He had never been very social at the parties he had attended in the palace, so he had never really thought he missed the company of others. However, now he realized that the only people who had spoken to him for the past half dozen moons had been Domitian or his soldiers, either to taunt him or give him an order. All the other servants and slaves had been forbidden to speak to him. Now, simply to talk to others, to have them near him- it was incredibly refreshing.

Shark soon slipped into field life, and found that he liked it much better than being Domitian's "pet shark." Life _was_ grueling, there was no mistaking that. He and the others were up at dawn and hurried to the boiling and curing houses after a meager breakfast of bread and mush. Lunch consisted of the same thing, while dinner was a small loaf of bread and a piece of cold meat. This had to be eaten on the way back to the barracks, often when it was dark and many of the slaves were too tired to even stand up. They were then all crammed into the "bunks," before their ankles were shackles together and they were left to sleep.

The hard work and companionship made time fly by. Before Shark knew it, the rainy season had begun. When the sugarcane started appearing from beneath the ground, the slaves were each assigned a section of the fields to upkeep. The rain was plentiful this year, so Shark didn't have to water his section, but he did have to weed it, as well as pick out by hand the many bugs, slugs, and worms than attacked his stalks. The work was hard, back-breaking, and often slimy. The different weather didn't provide any relief for the field slaves. If it poured rain, they had to work the same amount of time they did when it was dry. The only reason no one became ill was because of the hot climate.

Despite all this, Shark enjoyed field life. He loved being out under the open sky instead of shut up in the palace. He liked having other people so close to him, whether they were at work or chained up together in the Barracks. But most of all, he was relieved that here he was fed regularly. True, the stale bread, mush, meat scraps weren't a feast, but it was better than not knowing when your next meal was coming from. Also, there was no more bowing to his father's murderer or calling him "Master" or being dragged around on a leash. Compared to being a pet, being a field slave was almost like freedom. Heartland's plan to break Shark with hard labor had backfired.

During the past two and a half moon changes, Shark had not forgotten Weasel. He frequently wondered what had happened to the older boy. Was he alright, or was he hardening and enjoying the domination of helpless slaves? Shark got the answer to his question during one of the hoped for dry sun cycles. He was hard at work weeding around a group of his stalks when he suddenly heard the familiar voice.

"Hey! Hey, Shark!" Startled, Shark turned to look at the guard nearest him. "No! Don't look up. You'll get in trouble for stopping work." Shark went back to weeding.

"How did you get here, Weasel?"

"I got transferred here from the second sugarcane field. Jackal decided he couldn't stand me anymore told Wolfsbane to "deal" with me.

"Who's Jackal?"

"He's one of the members of the triad of terror."

"Weasel, what are you talking about?"

"Wolfsbane, Jackal, and Coyote! There are three sugarcane fields, and each one of them is in charge of one. Wolfsbane is in charge here, in field three. Jackal is in charge of field two, and Coyote had field one. The rest of us guards call them 'the triad of terror' because they're so terrifying."

"Original," Shark muttered.

"How've you been, Shark?"

"Pretty well. Field work is hard, but we're fed regularly and it's great to be outdoors again."

"You're not worked too hard, are you? You get enough sleep?"

"For the most part."

"Phew," Weasel exclaimed. "I was worried that I'd find you wasting away out here. It sure is hot."

"Not as hot as it is humid," Shark said, moving over to a different set of stalks, dragging his sack of weeds with him.

"What does that mean?"

"If it's hot, it means the temperature is high. If it's humid, it means there is a lot of water in the air."

"Can't they just suck the water out of the air?"

Shark laughed. "Even if they could, they wouldn't, because sugarcane thrives in humid climates."

"Oh. Well, you take care of yourself, Shark. I don't want to lose my only friend."

"Alright, Weasel." The red haired boy hurried off to continue his patrol.

Shark looked up as he went, just managing to make him out through the sun's glare. Whatever Weasel thought about warm weather, it had always been a sign of new beginnings to Shark. After all, hadn't he been born in the beginning of the hot rainy season? In only a little more than a moon change, he would be nine. Domitian had not yet broken him. Wherever Marin and Iris were, Shark knew in his heart that they were safe. Like Lanu had said, there was reason to hope.

 **The End**


	18. Preview of Part 2

_The dogs were definitely coming this way. How had they picked up their scents? Quickly Shark dropped to the ground and rolled around, trying to erase his scent with that of dirt and plants. The dogs continued to draw closer. Shark crouched down behind a fallen log, his heart racing. What if the dogs found him? They might be able to sniff out all the others, and then all would be lost. If worst came to worst, Shark decided, he would run in the opposite direction to divert the hounds from the slaves' secret._

 _To his confusion, Shark heard hasty footsteps and heavy breathing approaching before the sound of dogs coming crashing through the brush. Could it be the dogs were not after the secret goings-on at then spring, but rather they were chasing someone who happened to be running in this direction? Whoever it was, Shark was going to make them pay for endangering them all._

 _He waited. The footsteps grew closer. Closer. Just a little bit more and- Shark leapt from his hiding place and tackled his quarry, clapping his hand over their mouth to stifle any screams of surprise. The person, who was smaller than he was, struggled until Shark managed to pin them down underneath him. Lying underneath him, his captive froze._

 _Sitting up, but keeping his enemy's arms tight in his grasp, Shark looked at the person lying under him. Staring up at him were a pair of frightened green eyes, belonging to a face that Shark could never have forgotten..._

* * *

 **Who did Shark recognize? What's so important to keep hidden? To find out, you'll have to read _A Tale of Two Slaves Part 2: Survival._**


End file.
